A  Romance  of 
RED  SAUNDERS 


Ho 

Seattle 


Preset:''^  to 


Plain  Mary  Smith 


"I  grabbed  cans  of  tomatoes,  and  pasted  the  heap" 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

A  Romance  of  Red  Saunders 

By 

Henry  Wallace  Phillips 


With  Illustrations 
By  Martin  Justice 


New  York 
The  Century  Co. 


Copyright,  1905,  by 
THE  CENTURY  Co. 

Copyright,  1905,  by 

FKANK  LESLIE  PUBLISHING  HOUSE 

(Incorporated) 


Published  October,  1905 


THE    DE  VINNE    PRESS 


STACK 
ANNEX 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

i  "BuT  WAS  N'T  IT  A  GORGEOUS  SMASH!"      ....      3 

ii  "THE  VILLAGE  PRIDE" 22 

in  SANDY  GRAY 36 

iv  THE  FIGHT 45 

v  "ON  MY  BUREAU  WAS  A  KNIFE—" G7 

vi  "  I  'M  MARY  SMITH  " 77 

vn  "SAVE  ME,  ARTHUR!" 103 

vni  ARCHIE  OUT  OF  ASPINWALL 124 

ix  ENTER  BROTHER  BELKNAP 155 

x  "YOUR  LIFE,  IF  You  HURT  HIM!" 179 

xi  SAXTON'S  STORY 201 

xii  BILL  MEETS  A  RELATIVE 220 

xni  RED  MAKES  A  FEW  REMARKS 238 

xiv  BROTHER  BELKNAP'S  REVOLUTION 259 

xv  TOMATOES  BY  THE  QUART 280 

xvi  RED  PLAYS  TRUMPS   .  .  299 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTKATIONS 

"  I  grabbed  cans  of  tomatoes,  and  pasted  the  heap  "       Frontispiece 

PAGE 

"  '  You  git  married  arid  shuck  them  clothes  '" 53 

"< You  fight  that  boy  fair '" G3 

"  I   left   home   .   .   .  mother   and   father   both   waving  me 

good-by  in  the  road  " 73 

"The  Mdtilda  saw  a  whale,  or  something,  and  shied"    .     .     89 
"  He  grabbed  up  his  woodeu  box  and  made  a  miracle  "  .     .   107 

"  'Still  wearing  your  legs  cut  short,  I  see'  " 1-7 

"  I  laid  two  strong  hands  on  Archie's  mane  " 147 

'•  I  crowded  my  victim  down  against  the  saddle  with  my 

left  hand  "  .  ....   181 


PLAIN  MARY  SMITH 


PLAIN  MARY  SMITH 

A  ROMANCE  OF  RED  SAUNDERS 

I 

"BUT  WAS  N'T  IT  A  GORGEOUS  SMASH!" 

OLD  Foster  used  to  say  the  reason  some 
women  married  men  they  entirely  should 
not  was  because  nature  tried  to  even  up  all 
round.  Very  likely  that  's  it,  but  it  's  a  rocky 
scheme  for  the  Little  Results.  When  my  mo 
ther  married  my  father,  it  was  the  wonder  of 
the  neighborhood.  I  don't  fully  understand  it 
to  this  day,  as  many  things  as  I  Ve  seen. 

She  was  a  beautiful,  tall,  kind,  proud  woman, 
who  walked  as  if  she  owned  the  world  and 
loved  it ;  from  her  I  get  my  French  blood.  Was 
there  a  dog  got  his  foot  run  over?  Here  he 
comes  for  mother,  hollering  and  whimpering, 

3 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

showing  her  the  paw  and  telling  her  all  about 
it,  sure  she  'd  understand.  And  she  did. 
'Twixt  her  and  the  brutes  was  some  kind  of 
sympathy  that  did  away  with  need  of  words. 
Doggy  'd  look  at  her  with  eyebrows  up  and 
wigwag  with  his  tail,  "Left  hind  leg  very  pain 
ful.  Fix  it,  but  touch  lightly,  if  you  please. ' ' 

Father  was  a  gaunt,  big  man,  black  and  pale ; 
stormy  night  to  her  sunshine.  A  good  man,  es 
timated  by  what  he  did  n't  do  (which  is  a  queer 
way  to  figure  goodness),  but  a  powerful  dis 
courager  on  the  active  side.  He  believed  in 
Hell  first,  last,  and  all  the  time ;  I  think  he  felt 
some  scornful  toward  the  Almighty  for  such  a 
weak  and  frivolous  institution  as  Heaven. 
How  much  of  this  was  due  to  his  own  nature, 
and  how  much  to  the  crowd  he  traveled  with, 
I  don 't  know.  He  had  to  have  it  in  him  to  go 
with  them ;  still,  I  like  to  think  they  led  him  off. 
Left  to  mother's  influence,  he  'd  have  been  a 
different  man — more  as  I  remembered  him 
when  I  was  a  little  chap.  This  ' '  church ' '  of  his 

4- 


"A  Gorgeous  Smash" 

was  down  on  everything  that  had  a  touch  of 
color,  a  pleasant  sound,  or  a  laugh  in  it:  all 
such  was  wickedness.  I  remember  how  I  got 
whaled  for  kissing  Mattie.  A  boy  that 
would  n't  kiss  Mattie  if  she  'd  let  him  should 
have  been  trimmed  to  a  peak.  However,  I  got 
whaled  for  anything  and  everything.  In  this 
he  was  supported  by  his  fellow  church-mem 
bers,  most  of  'em  high-cheek-boned  men  with 
feverish  eyes,  like  himself.  "Take  heed  to 
the  word,  Brother  Saunders,"  they  'd  say: 
"  ' Spare  the  rod  and  spoil  the  child.'  So 
father  'd  refuse  to  spare  the  rod,  and  he  'd 
spoil  me  for  the  time  being,  anyhow. 

They  were  n  't  all  men  of  that  stamp,  though. 
You  can 't  get  a  crowd  of  fools  to  hold  together 
unless  there  's  a  rascal  to  lead  them.  Anker 
was  the  boss  of  the  business— and  a  proper 
coyote  he  was.  A  little  man,  him;  long-nosed 
and  slit-eyed ;  whispered,  mostly,  from  behind 
his  hand.  He  had  it  in  for  me,  most  particular. 
First  place,  I  nicknamed  him  ' '  Canker ' '  and  it 

5 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

stuck;  next  place,  one  day  me  and  Tom,  Mat- 
tie's  brother,  being  then  about  sixteen  apiece, 
come  up  from  swimming  and  stopped  at  An 
ker's  patch  to  pull  a  turnip.  While  we  sat 
there,  cutting  off  slices  and  enjoying  it,  never 
thinking  of  having  harmed  the  man,  Anker 
slides  out  to  us,  so  quiet  we  could  n  't  hear  him 
till  he  was  right  there,  and  calls  us  a  pair  of 
reprobates  and  thieves.  I  never  liked  the 
sound  of  that  word  "thief."  He  got  the  tur 
nip.  He  'd  have  got  worse,  too,  but  Tom  slung 
the  sleeve  of  his  shirt  around  my  neck  and 
choked  me  down. 

The  turnip  sent  him  to  grass.  As  he  got  up, 
smiling  with  half  his  mouth,  and  wiping  turnip 
off  his  manly  brow, ' '  You  '11  regret  this,  young 
man,"  says  he;  "some  day  you  '11  be  sorry  for 
this." 

Poor  Tom  had  his  hands  full  holding  me. 
' '  Well,  you  'd  better  run  along, ' '  says  he ;  "  for 
if  this  shirt  gives  way,  you  'II  regret  it  to-day. ' ' 

Anker  was  a  man  to  give  advice,  generally. 

6 


"A  Gorgeous  Smash" 

When  he  cast  an  eye  on  me,  foaming  and 
r'aring,  he  concluded  he  'd  take  the  same,  for 
once,  and  ambled  out  of  that. 

He  kept  his  word,  though.  He  made  me  re 
gret  it.  You  'd  hardly  believe  a  man  near  fifty 
years  old  would  hold  a  grudge  against  a  six 
teen-year-old  boy  hard  enough  to  lie  about  him 
on  every  occasion,  and  poison  the  boy's  fa 
ther  's  mind,  would  you  ?  That  's  the  facts.  He 
stirred  the  old  man  up  by  things  he  "really 
did  n't  like  to  tell,  you  know,  but  felt  it  his  pain 
ful  duty"— and  so  forth.  Yes,  sir ;  he  made  me 
regret  it  plenty.  You  might  say  he  broke  our 
home  up.  And  so,  if  ever  I  meet  that  gentle 
man  in  the  hereafter,  above  or  below,  him  and 
me  is  going  to  have  some  kind  of  a  scuffle— but 
shucks !  There  's  no  use  getting  excited  over 
it  at  my  age.  The  good  Lord 's  attended  to  his 
case  all  right,  without  any  help  from  me. 

In  all  kinds  of  little  things  mother  and  father 
were  separated  by  miles.  Take  the  case  of  old 
Eli  Perkins,  the  tin-peddler,  for  instance.  Mo- 

7 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

ther  used  to  love  to  buy  things  from  Eli,  to 
hear  him  bargain  and  squirm,  trying  his  best 
to  give  you  a  wrong  steer,  without  lying  right 
out.  "Well,  now,  Mis'  Saunders,"  he  'd  say, 
"I  ain't  sayin'  myself  thet  thet  pan  is  solerd 
tin;  I  'm  on'y  repeatin'  of  what  I  bin  tolt.  I 
du'  know  es  it  be  solerd  tin;  mebbe  not.  In 
thet  case,  of  course,  it  ain't  wuth  nineteen 
cents,  es  I  was  sayin',  but  about,  about  .  .  . 
well,  well,  now!  I  '11  tell  you  what  I  '11  do, 
ma'am.  I  '11  say  fourteen  cents  and  a  few  of 
them  Baldwins  to  take  the  taste  out  'n  my 
mouth— can't  do  no  fairer  than  thet  now, 
kin  I?  Yassam— well,  nuthin'  more  £o-day? 
Thankee,  ma  'am. ' '  And  Eli  'd  drive  off,  leav 
ing  mother  and  me  highly  entertained.  But 
father  'd  scowl  when  his  eye  fell  on  Eli.  It 
seems  that  the  poor  old  cuss  was  a  child  of  the 
devil,  because  he  would  take  Chief  Okochohog- 
gammee's  Celebrated  Snaggerroot  Indian  Bit 
ters  for  some  trouble  Eli  felt  drawing  toward 
him  and  tried  to  meet  in  time.  When  Eli  got 

8 


"A  Gorgeous  Smash" 

an  overdose  of  the  chief's  medicine  he  had  one 
song.    Then  you  heard  him  warble : 

u  Retur-n-n-n-i-n '  from  mar-r-r-ket, 
Thebutterneggsallsold, 
And — will  you  be  so  kind,  young  man, 
And  tie  'em  up  for  ME  f 

Yaas  I  will,  yaas  I  will,  w'en  we  git  UPon  the  hill. 
And  we  joggled  erlong  tergether  singin' 
TOORAL-I-YOODLE-I-AAAAAAAAAAAAY ! !" 

Well,  sir,  to  hear  it,  and  to  see  Eli,  with  his 
head  bent  back  near  to  break  off,  his  old  billy- 
goat  whisker  wagging  to  the  tune,  was  to  obtain 
a  pleasant  memory.  The  way  that '  *  TOORAL- 
I-YOODLE-I-AY"  come  out  used  to  start  old 
Dandy  Jim,  the  horse,  on  a  dead  run. 

Another  offspring  of  the  same  split-hoof 
parent  was  Bobby  Scott,  the  one-legged  sailor- 
man  that  used  to  whittle  boats  for  us  boys 
when  he  was  sober,  and  go  home  from  the  tav 
ern  Saturday  nights  at  the  queerest  gait  you 
ever  saw,  playing  his  accordion  and  scattering 
pennies  to  the  kids.  I  always  liked  any  kind  of 

9 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

music;  pennies  did  n't  come  my  way  so  often 
—how  were  you  going  to  make  me  believe  Old 
Bob  was  a  wicked  sinner?  I  did  n't,  nor  that 
Eli  was  neither.  I  thought  a  heap  of  both 
of  'em. 

But  railroading  was  what  gave  me  the  first 
wrench  from  the  home  tree.  It  happened  one 
evening  I  wandered  over  the  hills  to  the  end  of 
the  little  jerk-line  that  ran  our  way,  and 
watched  the  hostler  put  the  engine  in  the  shed 
for  the  night.  It  was  a  small  tea-pot  of  an  en 
gine  that  one  of  our  Western  'Guls  could  smear 
all  over  the  track  and  never  know  there  'd  been 
an  accident,  but,  man!  she  looked  big  to  me. 
And  the  hostler !  Well,  I  classed  him  with  the 
lad  that  hooked  half-dollars  out  of  the  air  at 
the  Sunday-school  show,  and  took  a  rabbit  out 
of  Judge  Smalley's  hat.  But  the  hostler  was 
a  still  more  wonderful  man.  I  tried  to  figure  if 
he  'd  ever  speak  to  me,  and  what  I  should  do 
if  he  did.  Every  time  I  got  the  chores  done 
early,  I  skipped  it  over  to  the  railroad,  till 

IO 


"A  Gorgeous  Smash" 

finally  the  hostler  he  sees  a  long-legged  boy 
eating  him  with  his  eyes,  and  he  says : 

" Hello,  bub!" 

I  scuffed  my  feet  and  said,  "Good  morning." 

The  hostler  spit  careful  over  the  top  of  the 
switch  and  says,  with  one  eye  shut,  "Like  a 
ride!" 

Well!  ! 

Howsomever,  it  seemed  manners  to  me  to  re 
fuse  all  pleasant  propositions,  so  I  said  "no" 
and  prepared  to  slide  away.  But  he  was  a  wise 
man. 

"Better  come  down  to  the  shed,"  he  says. 
So  I  climbed  aboard  with  no  more  talk. 

"This  is  the  throttle,"  says  he.  "You  pull 
that  and  she  goes :  try  it. ' ' 

Notwithstanding  I  expected  that  engine  to 
explode  and  scatter  us  the  minute  a  strange 
hand  was  laid  on  her,  I  wrastled  my  nerve 
together  and  moved  the  lever  a  tiny  bit. 
"Chow!"  says  the  old  engine,  "Chow-chow- 
chow!"  and  I  near  had  a  fit  with  pride  and 

II 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

scaredness.  It  is  a  great  sensation  to  hold 
them  big  critters  under  your  hand.  I  never 
knew  an  engineer  yet  that  got  rid  of  it  entirely. 

So  there  was  me,  white  in  the  face  with  gran 
deur,  hogging  the  engine  into  the  shed.  I 
could  n't  sleep  much  that  night.  When  I  did 
doze  off,  it  was  to  travel  a  great  many  miles 
a  minute  on  a  road-bed  laid  flat  against  the  side 
of  a  mountain,  with  an  engine  that  had  wash- 
tubs  for  drivers,  and  was  run  by  winding  up  by 
a  crank,  like  the  old  clock  in  the  hall.  Lord! 
how  I  whizzed  around  the  turns!  Grinding 
away  like  a  lunatic,  until  the  road  ended— just 
ended,  that  's  all,  and  off  we  went  into  the  air. 
From  that  on  I  had  business  at  the  railroad 
every  evening  I  could  get  off. 

I  went  over  to  my  engine  one  night.  There 
was  n't  a  soul  around.  My  friend  was  as  in 
genious  a  Yank  as  ever  helped  make  this  world 
a  factory.  He  'd  got  up  a  scheme  for  a  brake, 
almost  the  identical  thing  with  the  air-brake 
they  use  to-day,  except  Jerry  took  pressure 

12 


"A  Gorgeous  Smash" 

into  his  brake-pistons  straight  from  the  boiler. 
He  spent  every  cent  he  had  to  get  one  made 
and  put  on  his  pusher.  How  he  used  to  explain 
it  to  me,  and  tell  me  what  we  'd  do  when  he  sold 
his  patent !  For  he  was  a  great  friend  of  mine, 
Jerry  was,  and  I  knew  the  workings  of  that 
brake  as  well  as  he  did  himself.  The  reason 
he  was  n't  around  was  that  he  'd  taken  the 
pusher  down  the  line  to  show  his  scheme  to 
some  railroad  people.  So  there  stood  an  en 
gine  all  alone— the  one  I  was  used  to,  I  thought 
—and  it  occurred  to  me  there  'd  be  no  particu 
lar  harm  if  I  got  aboard  and  moved  her  up  and 
down  the  track  a  foot  or  two— you  see,  I  'd 
never  had  her  single-handed.  So  I  started 
easy,  and  reversed  her,  and  played  around  that 
way  for  a  while,  till  naturally  I  got  venture 
some.  One  stunt  that  Jerry  and  I  loved  to  try 
was  to  check  her  up  short  with  his  patent 
brake.  The  poor  old  pusher  never  got  put  to 
bed  without  being  stood  on  end  a  half-dozen 
times ;  that  suggested  to  me  that  I  'd  slam  her 

13 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

down  on  the  shed  doors  and  see  how  near  I 
could  come  to  them  without  hitting.  I  backed 
'way  off,  set  her  on  the  corner,  yanked  the 
throttle,  and  we  boiled  for  the  shed,  me  as  sat 
isfied  with  myself  as  could  be.  I  did  n  't  leave 
much  margin  for  stopping,  so  there  was  n't  a 
lot  of  track  left  when  I  reached  down  for  the 
brake-lever,  and  found— it  was  n't  there!  If 
some  day  you  reach  for  something  and  find 
your  right  arm  's  missing,  you  '11  know  how 
I  felt.  In  the  little  bit  of  time  before  the  smash, 
there  was  n't  a  scrap  of  my  brain  working— 
and  then,  Holy  Jeeroosalum !  How  we  rammed 
that  shed!  The  door  fell  over,  cleaning  that 
engine  to  the  boiler ;  stack,  bell,  sand-box,  and 
whistle  lay  in  the  dust,  and  all  of  the  cab  but 
where  I  sat.  Quicker  'n  lightning  we  bulled 
through  the  other  end,  and  the  rest  of  the  cab 
left  there.  How  it  come  I  did  n't  get  killed,  I 
don't  know— all  that  remained  of  the  shed  was 
a  ruin,  and  that  had  a  list  to  port  that  would 
have  scart  a  Cape-Homer.  I  woke  up  then 


"A  Gorgeous  Smash" 

and  threw  her  over  kerbang,  but  she  went  into 
the  bunker  squirting  fire  from  her  drivers.  I 
shut  her  down,  took  one  despairing  look,  and 
says  out  loud,  "I  guess  I  '11  go  home." 

I  felt  about  as  bad  as  falls  to  the  lot  of  man 
at  any  age.  Jerry  was  sure  to  get  into  trouble 
over  it;  he  'd  make  a  shrewd  guess  at  who  did 
it,  whether  I  told  or  not,  and  his  confidence 
in  me  would  be  a  thing  of  the  past— nothing 
but  black  clouds  on  the  sky-line,  whilst  inside 
of  me  some  kind  of  little  devil  was  holler 
ing  all  the  time,  "But  was  n't  it  a  gorgeous 
smash ! ' ' 

I  went  home  and  to  bed  that  night  without 
speaking,  resolved  to  let  my  misfortunes  leak 
out  when  they  got  ready.  That  's  the  kind  of 
resolution  I  've  never  been  able  to  keep — I  've 
got  to  face  a  thing,  got  to  get  it  done  with, 
swallow  my  medicine,  and  clean  the  table  for  a 
new  deal. 

Next  morning  I  told  father.  You  can  im 
agine  how  easy  it  was— me  stumbling  and  stut- 

15 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

tering  while  lie  sat  there,  still  as  if  he  'd  been 
painted  for  the  occasion. 

"Have  you  entirely  finished?"  says  he,  when 
the  sound  of  my  words  hit  my  ears  with  such 
a  lonesome  feeling  that  I  quit  talking. 

' '  Yes,  sir, ' '  I  says,  ' '  that  's  about  all  of  it. ' ' 

"Well,  William,  I  see  you  're  determined  to 
make  our  name  a  disgrace  through  the  commu 
nity,"  he  begins  again.  That  was  out  of 
whooping  range  from  the  truth.  I  had  n't  de 
termined  to  do  anything  to  our  name,  nor  no 
thing  else,  when  I  got  aboard  that  engine.  Far 
from  me  had  it  been  to  determine  anything,  so 
I  filed  a  protest. 

"Why,  father,"  I  says,  "it  was  an  accident 
—it  was  just  as  if  you  'd  hopped  into  a  neigh 
bor's  wagon,  not  noticing  the  head-stall  was  n't 
on  the  horse,  and  the  critter  'd  run  away,  and 
things— ' '  Here  again  I  run  down  with  a  buzz. 
He  was  n't  paying  the  least  heed  to  the  sense  of 
what  I  said.  It  only  interrupted  him.  He 
sailed  right  on,  explaining  how  I  was  the  most 

16 


"A  Gorgeous  Smash" 

undiluted  scoundrel  of  his  acquaintance,  an  all- 
wool  villain  of  the  closest  weave,  built  to  hold 
sin  like  a  Navajo  blanket  does  water. 

Now  I  understand  that  the  old  gentleman 
did  think  a  lot  of  me,  and,  of  course,  wanted 
me  to  be  as  near  like  him  as  possible,  as  repre 
senting  the  highest  style  of  man— it  was  his 
disappointment  he  poured  on  me,  not  his  judg 
ment.  But  then,  I  was  sixteen  by  the  clock,  and 
I  thought,  of  all  the  fool  laying-outs  I  'd  heard, 
that  crossed  the  rope  an  easy  first. 

I  wanted  to  respect  my  father;  you  can't 
guess  how  much  I  wanted  to,  but  when  he  in 
sisted  on  talking  like  Eli  Perkins's  mule,  it 
simply  was  n't  possible.  He  stood  there,  black 
and  sullen,  and  I  stood  there,  red  and  sullen. 

1 '  Get  yourself  ready  to  go  with  me, ' '  he  says, 
turns  on  his  heel,  and  walks  to  the  house,  his 
hands  clasped  behind  his  back,  and  his  big  head 
leant  forrard,— a  fine,  powerful  chunk  of  a 
man,  all  right.  Oh,  Lord !  What  he  could  have 
been  if  he  'd  listened  to  mother  instead  of 

2 

17 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

Anker!  There  was  n't  a  man  in  tJiis  county 
more  respected,  nor  whose  word  was  better 
thought  of  on  any  subject  outside  of  his  own 
family,  and  that  hydrophobia  of  3,  doctrine  of 
his.  Honest?  Why,  he  was  the  savings-bank 
of  the  place.  All  the  old  hayseeds  around 
there  turned  their  surplus  in  to  him  to  take  care 
of,  instead  of  putting  it  in  a  sock,— and  I  want 
you  to  understand  that  the  real  old  Yankee 
farmer,  with  tobacco  juice  on  his  whiskers,  was 
a  man  you  'd  fool  just  once  in  a  lifetime,  and 
you  'd  sit  up  more  'n  one  night  to  figure  how 
you  got  the  best  of  it,  then. 

Well,  down  him  and  me  goes  to  the  railroad 
office,  and  I  have  to  tell  my  tale.  I  begged  hard 
to  be  allowed  to  leave  Jerry  out  of  it,  but  no— 
that  would  n 't  do :  it  would  be  a  lie.  I  always 
stood  ready  to  lie  to  any  extent  to  help  a  friend. 
I  think  that  hurt  me  worse  than  the  rest  of  it. 

After  some  parleying  around  the  offices,  we 
were  shown  up  into  a  private  room.  There  sat 
three  men,  officers  of  the  company,  and  Jerry. 

18 


"A  Gorgeous  Smash" 

My  father  made  few  words  of  his  part,  sim 
ply  saying  he  stood  prepared  to  pay  all  dam 
ages,  although  he  could  ill  afford  it,  and  that  I 
would  tell  the  story. 

First  off,  I  was  embarrassed,  but  soon  I  was 
flying  my  arms  around,  and  letting  'em  know 
all  about  it,  as  if  we  'd  played  together  for 
years. 

Two  of  those  men  had  been  boys  once ;  they 
had  an  almighty  hard  job  to  keep  an  official 
face  on,  as  some  of  my  interest  in  engineering, 
and  my  satisfaction  in  having  made  a  corking 
old  bust-up  of  her  while  I  was  at  it,  crept  into 
my  discourse.  The  third  man  was  in  an  ugly 
state  of  liquor.  He  let  out  on  me,  although  the 
others  said,  "Come!  Come!"  Father's  face 
was  something  to  look  at  when  he  saw  the  only 
man  that  sided  with  him  was  three-quarters 
loaded. 

After  giving  me  a  blast,  this  bucko,  who  I  be 
lieve  was  president  of  the  company,  kind  of 
falls  over  on  his  desk  and  opens  up  on  Jerry, 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

while  my  heart  broke  entirely.  He  was  about 
as  reasonable  toward  Jerry  as  my  father  had 
been  toward  me.  The  other  two  bit  their  lips, 
as  if  they  were  n't  going  to  stand  for  a  whole 
lot  more;  everybody  that  knew  Jerry,  liked 
him. 

Howsomever,  Jeremiah  was  a  prophet  in  his 
own  country.  He  belonged  to  that  tribe  of 
Yankees  that  don't  seem  to  be  born  very  fast 
these  days,  but  long  may  they  wave !  the  good- 
natured,  able  kind  that  feared  the  face  of  no 
man  nor  the  hoof  of  no  jackass,  and  always 
had  something  to  say  that  wrecked  the  situa 
tion. 

He  walks  carefully  over  to  the  side  of  the 
room  to  where  the  spittoon  was,  so  's  he  could 
talk  with  freedom,  and  sidles  easily  back  again, 
and  says  he,  "Mr.  Hawkins,  you  've  lit  on  me 
like  a  sparrow-hawk.  If  I  thought  you  was  in 
condition  to  make  a  speech,  I  'd  feel  tolerable 
cast  down.  As  it  is,  I  advise  you  to  go  out  and 
take  another  snifter,— I  appeal  from  Ca3sar 

20 


"A  Gorgeous  Smash' 

drunk  to  Caesar  drunker."  Well,  sir,  those 
other  two  let  out  a  yell  and  fell  on  the  floor; 
the  old  president,  he  r'ars  up  with  massacre  in 
his  eye  for  a  minute,  and  then  it  got  the  best  of 
him. 

"Shut  your  noise,  you  damn  fools,"  says  he 
to  the  others ;  then  to  Jerry,  ' '  With  the  loan  of 
your  arm,  I  '11  fill  your  prescription. "  So  off 
he  toddles  to  the  door.  When  he  got  there  he 
turned  around,  and  fixed  upon  my  father  a 
stern  but  uncertain  eye. 

"I  'm  drunk  with  liquor,  sir,"  says  he,  "and 
there  's  recovery  in  that  case;  but  you  're 
drunk  on  your  own  virtue,— may  God  have 
mercy  on  your  soul !  Take  the  boy  home  and 
use  him  right,— there  is  no  bill  to  pay." 


21 


II 


'THE  VILLAGE  PRIDE 

WELL,  mother  gave  me  a  long  talking  to, 
after  that.  Not  scolding,  but  conver 
sation,  just  as  if  I  was  a  human  being.  Some 
how  it  's  easier  to  get  along  with  me  that  way. 

I  reckon  I  averaged  three  sessions  a  week  in 
the  woodshed,  but  father  might  as  well  have 
walloped  a  lime-kiln,  for  all  the  tears  he  drew 
out  of  me. 

Yet  let  mother  talk  to  me  in  her  quiet  way— 
easy  and  gentle,  the  words  soaking  in,  and  the 
first  thing  you  knew,  I  had  a  lump  in  my  throat, 
and  some  blamed  thing  got  in  my  eyes. 

I  wanted  to  do  what  was  right  by  all  of  them, 
I  certainly  did.  It  was  a  misfit  all  round, 
there  's  where  the  trouble  come.  Father 
22 


"The  Village  Pride" 

could  n't  possibly  enter  into  my  feelings.  Six 
teen  I  was,  staggering  with  strength,  red- 
Leaded,  and  aching  to  be  at  something  all  the 
time.  It  ain't  in  reason  I  could  remember  to 
put  one  foot  before  the  other— right-left,  right- 
left,  day  in  and  day  out. 

Then,  as  soon  as  I  'd  cleaned  up  all  the  boys 
in  our  place,  every  young  man  for  miles  around 
who  made  pretensions  to  being  double-handed 
came  to  find  what  I  was  made  of. 

It  's  all  right  to  say  don't  fight,  but  when  this 
young  man  slouched  along  and  cast  disparagin' 
eyes  in  my  direction,  it  was  plain  somebody 
had  to  be  hurt,  and  it  might  as  well  not  be  me. 

Honest,  I  'd  rather  have  been  in  the  woods, 
fishing,  or  just  laying  on  my  back,  watching  the 
pines  swinging  over  me,  so  slow,  so  regular, 
tasting  the  smell  of  'em,  and  fancying  I  was  an 
Injun  or  Mr.  Ivanhoe,  or  whatever  idee  was 
uppermost  at  the  time,  than  out  in  the  dusty 
road,  smiting  my  fellow-man.  But  if  you 
should  be  mean  enough  to  ask  me  if  I  took  no 

23 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

pleasure  in  the  art  of  assault  and  battery,  I  'd 
have  to  admit  a  slight  inclination. 

Not  that  I  wanted  to  hurt  anybody,  either— 
small  malice  there  was  in  those  mix-ups !  I 
reckon,  with  the  other  lad,  as  with  me,  it  was 
more  a  case  of  doing  your  little  darnedest— of 
letting  out  all  you  held,  once  in  so  often— that 
made  the  interest. 

But  father  was  powerful  opposed  to  scrap 
ping,  and,  of  course,  mother  did  n  't  like  it,  nei 
ther.  The  only  place  a  woman  likes  a  row  is  in 
a  book. 

Women  is  fond  of  bargains.  They  like  a  fine 
fight  with  no  bills  to  pay. 

It  was  a  little  that  way  with  mother.  This 
time  she  was  talking  to  me,  she  brought  up  for 
my  instruction  Great-grandfather  Saunders, 
who  fought  in  the  Eevolution.  He  was  one  of 
'em  that  clubbed  their  muskets  at  Bunker  Hill. 
When  they  asked  the  old  man  about  it  after 
ward  he  said  he  acted  that  way  because  he  was 
too  darned  scart  to  run.  Howsomever,  he  was 

24 


"The  Village  Pride" 

a  fair-to-medium  quarrelsome  old  gentleman 
when  his  blood  was  up.  Mother  carefully  ex 
plained  to  me  that  was  different— he  was  fight 
ing  for  his  country.  Yet,  at  the  same  time,  I 
recollect  seeing  a  letter  the  old  man  wrote,  call 
ing  his  neighbors  a  lot  of  rum-swilling,  psalm- 
singing  hypocrites.  Now  a  man's  neighbors 
are  his  country.  I  think  Grandpa  Saunders 
liked  a  row,  myself. 

Next,  mother  told  me  about  my  French  fore 
bears,  and  a  nice  peaceful  lot  they  were,  for 
sure.  The  head  of  the  outfit— the  Sieur  De  La 
Tour— sassed  the  king  himself  to  his  teeth— he 
did  n't  care  no  more  about  a  king  than  I  do— 
unless  it  happened  to  match  on  a  two-card 
draw.  There  was  some  racket  about  a  friend 
of  Many-times-great-grandfather  De  La 
Tour's  offending  the  king.  He  took  refuge 
with  the  old  man,  while  the  king  sent  the  sheriff 
after  him.  ' i  You  must  yield  him  to  the  king ! ' ' 
says  the  sheriff.  "Not  to  any  king  under 
God!"  says  Many-times-great-grandfather  De 

25 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

La  Tour.  Hence,  trouble.  My!  How  mo 
ther  's  eyes  shone  when  she  repeated  that  proud 
answer.  Yet  suppose  I  sassed  father  like  that? 
There  's  something  about  distance  lending  en 
chantment  to  the  view.  Well,  they  downed  the 
old  man,  although  he  stacked  the  posse  around 
him  in  great  shape.  Meantime  his  friend  was 
using  both  feet  to  acquire  some  of  that  distance 
to  lend  enchantment  to  the  view,  I  just  spoke  of. 

One  thing  stuck  out  in  these  old-timers. 
Whatever  their  faults  might  be,  meanness 
was  n't  one  of  'em.  Therefore  I  indorsed  the 
lot.  I  left  her  that  day  determined  to  be  such 
a  son  as  anybody  would  be  proud  of.  Why,  in 
half  an  hour's  time  I  was  wondering  how  I 
could  make  the  virtuous  jobs  last.  Already  my 
chest  swelled,  as  I  see  myself  pointed  to  on  the 
street  as  a  model  boy. 

My  first  stagger  at  being  the  Village  Pride 
come  off  next  day— Sunday.  It  would  take  a 
poet  to  describe  how  much  I  did  n't  like  Sun 
day,  and  a  large,  black-whiskered  poet,  at  that. 
26 


"The  Village  Pride" 

Man!  Sitting  in  that  little  old  church  of  a 
warm  day,  with  the  bees  bumbling  outside,  and 
all  kinds  of  smells  coaxing,  coaxing  me  to  the 
woods,  and  a  kind  of  uneasy,  dry  feeling  of  the 
skin,  that  only  the  water-hole  by  the  cider-mill 
could  cure.  Then  to  know,  too,  that  the  godless 
offspring  of  the  unregenerate  were  at  that  min 
ute  diving  from  the  dam— chow!— into  the 
slippery  cool  water— and  me  the  best  diver  in 
the  crowd.  .  .  . 

I  wriggled,  squirmed  my  fingers  into  knots, 
and  let  my  fancy  roam.  Roaming  fancy  was 
my  one  amusement  in  church. 

We  had  the  kind  of  minister  who  roars  one 
minute  and  whispers  the  next.  I  always  im 
agined  he  shouted  as  loud  as  he  dared,  short  of 
waking  the  baby.  I  never  was  done  being 
surprised,  after  he  'd  hissed  the  conclusion 
through  his  teeth  in  a  way  that  should  have 
sent  chills  down  your  backbone,  to  hear  him 
rattle  off  a  bunch  of  notices  as  fast  as  he  could 
talk. 

27 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

I  could  n't  get  interested  in  the  sermon,  so 
my  mind  wandered.  At  times  an  elephant 
sneaked  through  the  back  door  and  blew  a  bar 
rel  of  water  down  the  preacher 's  back.  Then 
there  was  the  monkey.  He  skipped  gaily  from 
pew  to  pew,  yanking  the  women 's  bonnets  off, 
pulling  the  men's  hair,  hanging  from  the  roof- 
beams  by  his  tail,  and  applying  a  disrespectful 
thumb  to  his  nose.  That  elephant  and  monkey 
got  to  be  as  real  as  anything.  Sometimes 
they  'd  jump  into  life  when  I  was  n't  thinking 
of  'em  at  all. 

This  Sunday,  however,  I  made  a  manful 
stand  against  temptation.  As  soon  as  the  ele 
phant  peeked  through  the  door,  I  took  a  long 
breath  and  forced  him  out.  I  did  n't  let  the 
monkey  much  more  'n  bob  his  head  over  Dea 
con  Anker's  pew,  although  one  of  my  pet  de 
lights  was  when  he  grabbed  the  deacon's  top 
knot  and  twisted  it  into  a  rope. 

And  my  reward  for  an  honest  try  was  to 
listen  to  as  lovely  a  tale  of  treachery  and  un- 
28 


"The  Village  Pride" 

ladylike  behavior  as  I  can  remember.  The 
sermon  was  about  a  Mrs.  Jael.  She  took  in  one 
of  the  enemy,  fed  him  fine,  and  while  he  was 
asleep,  grabbed  a  hammer  and  a  railroad  spike 
and  nailed  him  to  the  floor  by  his  head.  Whilst 
I  was  revolving  in  my  mind  how,  and  on  what 
person,  I  could  best  apply  these  teachings,  an 
other  thought  occurred  to  me. 

' '  Mother ! "  I  whispers,  pulling  her  sleeve. 

"Sssh!"  says  she;  "what  is  it,  Will?" 

"You  never  could  have  done  that,"  I  says. 

She  squeezed  my  hand  and  whispered  back, 
"You  're  right,  Will,"  with  an  approving 
smile. 

"No,"  says  I,  still  full  of  my  discovery, 
' i  you  'd  have  pounded  your  thumb. ' ' 

Her  face  went  ten  different  ways  and  then 
she  snorted  right  out.  It  was  a  scandal.  It 
took  her  so  by  surprise  she  could  n't  get  the 
best  of  it,  so  we  two  had  to  leave  the  church. 
When  we  got  outside  she  sat  down  and  laughed 
for  five  minutes. 

29 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

"Whatever  does  possess  you  to  say  such 
things ! ' '  she  says.  * '  It  was  dreadful ! ' ' 

Next  day  father  patted  me  on  the  back  with 
a  nice  limber  sapling,  for  misbehavior  in 
church.  This  caused  the  first  show  of  rebellion 
I  ever  saw  in  mother. 

She  came  out  to  the  woodshed  when  court 
was  in  session. 

"I  'd  like  to  speak  to  you  a  minute,"  she 
says  to  father.  . 

1 1 1  have  no  time  now, ' '  he  answers  short. 

' '  I  'd  like  to  speak  to  you  a  minute, ' '  repeats 
mother :  there  was  a  hint  of  Many-times-great 
grandfather  De  La  Tour  in  her  tones.  Father 
considered  for  a  minute;  then  laid  down  the 
club  and  went  out..  First  they  talked  quietly. 
Next,  I  heard  mother— not  because  she  spoke 
loud,  but  because  there  was  such  a  push  behind 
the  words : 

"I  am  as  much  a  culprit  as  he  is,"  she  says ; 
"why  not  use  the  whip  on  me!" 

Father  talked  strong  about  being  master  in 

3° 


"The  Village  Pride" 

his  own  house,  and  like  that.  It  was  bluff —boy 
that  I  was,  I  caught  the  hollow  ring  of  it.  Yet 
mother  changed  her  tone  instantly.  She 
turned  gently  to  argument.  "You  are  the 
master,"  she  says;  "but  would  you  make  your 
own  son  a  slave?  Why  do  you  treat  mistakes 
as  crimes ?  Why  do  you  expect  a  man's  control 
in  a  sixteen-year-old  boy!  I  have  never  asked 
for  much,  but  now  I  ask— 

They  walked  so  far  away  I  could  n't  hear 
what  she  asked.  I  did  n't  care.  She  was  on 
my  side ;  I  '11  swear  I  did  n  't  feel  the  ridges  on 
my  back. 

When  father  returned  and  said,  "Well,  you 
can  go  now, ' '  I  left  that  woodshed  a  happy  boy. 

I  made  up  my  mind  even  stronger  to  be  a 
monument  of  behavior.  Whether  it  was  mo 
ther's  talk,  or  that  I  did  really  keep  out  of 
scrapes,  at  least  I  got  through  the  week  without 
a  thrashing. 

Then  come  Sunday  again.  My  Sunday- 
school  teacher  was  a  maiden  lady  by  the  name 

31 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

of  Mehitabel  Demilt— aunt  to  Thomas  F.,  my 
present  partner.  Miss  Hitty  was  n't  much  to 
look  at.  Growing  her  nose  had  absorbed  most 
of  her  vitality,  and  her  years  was  such  she 
could  have  looked  on  a  good  part  of  mankind 
right  motherly,  if  she  'd  been  inclined  that  way. 
Howsomever,  she  wore  the  styles  of  sweet  six 
teen,  and  whenever  a  man  come  around  she 
frisked  like  a  clothes-horse. 

But  a  kinder  woman  never  lived.  When 
with  the  boys  she  dropped  her  tomfoolery,  too. 
Trouble  was,  them  young  clothes  stood  for  all 
she  dreamt  of— give  them  dreams  the  go-by, 
and  the  race  was  lost  for  poor  Miss  Hitty. 
Feathers  flyin'  and  ribbons  streaming,  she 
made  herself  believe  she  was  still  in  the  run 
ning  ;  without  'em,  she  knew  only  too  well  what 
it  was  to  be  a  lonely,  long-nosed,  forsaken, 
homely  old  maid.  I  don 't  blame  her  a  particle. 
Her  finery  stood  to  her  like  whisky  to  a  busted 
man.  Take  a  little  wine  for  your  stomachache, 
and  a  few  clothes  for  your  heartache. 

32 


"The  Village  Pride" 

A  trifle  gay  for  father's  crowd  was  Miss 
Hitty,  but  they  did  n  't  dast  to  say  a  word.  She 
belonged  to  one  of  our  best  families,  and  her 
brother-in-law,  who  could  be  as  ungodly  a  man 
under  provocation  as  you  ever  see,  held  a 
mortgage  on  the  church.  He  'd  'a'  dumped  the 
outfit  into  the  snows  of  winter,  and  never  a  sec 
ond  thought,  if  they  did  n't  treat  Miss  Hitty 
right.  So  they  overlooked  things  and  gave  her 
the  Bible  class  to  run.  Mighty  nice  to  us  boys 
she  was ;  she  certainly  was.  Curious  mix  of 
part  child  and  part  horse-sense  woman.  The 
woman  savvied  her  place  all  right,  but  the  child 
part  could  n't  stand  for  the  pain  of  it. 

If  there  was  anything  that  made  Miss  Hitty 
warlike  it  was  cruelty.  Seems  the  Mrs.  Jael 
sermon  riled  her  plumb  through.  I  suppose, 
perhaps,  she  did  n't  understand  how  any  wo 
man  could  be  so  recklessly  extravagant  as  to 
drive  a  nail  through  a  sound  man's  head,  and 
spoil  him.  Miss  Hitty  might  have  spiked  his 
coat-tails  to  the  floor,  but  his  head  ?  Never. 

3 

33 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

Joshing  aside,  she  beat  the  tom-tom  over  that 
sermon,  giving  us  boys  a  medicine  talk  that 
sticks  still :  how  we  were  all  fools  not  to  make 
the  earth  as  pleasant  as  we  could,  so  long  's  we 
got  to  live  here.  It  seemed  reasonable.  I 
thought  about  it  all  that  night,  trying  to  find 
a  subject  to  make  better  and  happier,  as  Miss 
Hitty  said. 

Before  I  went  to  sleep  I  'd  located  my  vic 
tim.  First  thing  in  the  morning  I  went  and 
told  mother  all  about  it.  You  know  I  'm  me 
dium  enthusiastic  over  what  I  'm  going  to  do, 
so  I  was  laying  it  off  to  her  in  great  shape, 
when  I  brought  up  short,  seeing  her  eyes  full 
of  tears.  I  plumped  down  and  hugged  her. 

"What  's  the  matter?  I  did  n't  mean  to 
make  you  cry,"  I  says,  feeling  it  was  my  luck 
to  do  the  wrong  thing,  and  not  half  try. 

"I  'm  not  crying,  little  boy,"  she  says; 
"  I  'm  only  one  of  those  ladies  in  the  books  who 
don 't  want  their  true-loves  to  go  to  war. ' '  She 
kissed  me.  We  often  used  to  play  parts  of 

34 


«  The  Village  Pride  " 

those  books,  so  I  took  it  just  as  she  said,  think 
ing  it  astonishing  how  well  she  acted  the  part ; 
not  much  realizing  what  it  meant  to  a  mother 
who  loved  her  boy,  and  knew  he  meant  no 
harm,  to  have  him  clubbed  all  the  time.  But 
she  shook  off  the  tears  right  away. 

"Arise!"  says  she,  laughing,  and  putting  a 
flower  in  my  coat.  "Arise,  Sir  William  of  the 
Hot  Heart !  Go  thy  way  and  conquer. ' ' 

So  I  giggled  and  looked  simple,  give  her  one 
of  them  boys '  kisses  that  would  come  under  the 
head  of  painful  operations  to  anybody  but  a 
mother,  and  skipped,  as  graceful  as  legs  four 
foot  long  would  permit,  to  my  new  job. 


35 


Ill 


SANDY  GRAY 

THE  saying, ' ' Do  unto  others  as  you  would 
have  them  do  unto  you,"  ought  n't  to 
be  taken  too  literal.  For  instance,  if  Foster 
was  sick  abed,  nothing  could  please  him  more 
than  reading  about  how  Professor  So-and-so 
had  mixed  a  little  of  this  acid  and  a  squirt  of 
that  other  truck,  and  found  out  what  his 
highly  esteemed  friend  Herr  Doctor  Profes 
sor  Schmittygeshucks  said  about  the  results 
was  n't  true  at  all.  And  such  thrilling  stories. 
Week  on  end  you  could  feed  Fos  that  and  keep 
him  happy.  Now,  when  Fos  boiled  this  stuff 
down  to  my  understanding,  I  was  interested, 
too ;  but,  right  off  the  bat,  I  should  n't  care  for 
it  if  I  was  sick.  I  'd  rather  hear  something 

36 


Sandy  Gray 

about  the  beauteous  maid  and  her  feller.  Or  a 
tune  on  the  guitar.  Or  a  little  chin  concerning 
the  way  Baldy  Smith  tried  to  play  six  cards  in 
a  jack-pot,  and  what  happened  to  Baldy  almost 
instantly  afterward.  No,  sir,  you  can't  stick 
too  close  to  doing  what  you  'd  like  to  have  done 
to  you,  because  tastes  differ. 

The  foundation  on  which  I  put  my  plan  for 
increasing  human  happiness  was  the  queerest 
little  cuss  you  ever  did  see.  A  kid  about  twelve 
years  old,  who  looked  to  be  a  hundred  and  ten 
even  before  Sammy  Perkins  shot  his  eye  out 
and  shrunk  him  up  on  one  side.  It  was  an  ac 
cident,  of  course.  Sammy  'd  saved  nigh  a 
year,  till  he  had  three  dollars  and  seventy-five 
cents  gathered  in  a  heap  to  buy  a  bored-out 
army  musket.  Then  he  invited  Sandy  Gray  to 
go  with  him ;  they  started  to  rid  the  country  of 
wild  critters.  They  walked  and  they  walked, 
but  Heaven  mercifully  preserved  the  rabbits. 
So  it  become  time  for  lunch,  and  also  Sandy 
was  now  an  Injun,  whilst  Sammy  was  Iron- 


37 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

jawed  Pete,  the  Nightmare  of  the  Red  Man. 
Iron- jawed  Pete  says  to  Chief  Sandy  Eagle- 
bird,  * '  Pick  up  chips !  Make  a  fire ! ' '  But  the 
haughty  soul  of  the  noble  savage  riz  at  the  no 
tion.  Be  darned  if  he  'd  pick  up  chips.  "All 
right,"  says  Iron-jawed  Pete,  "then  I  '11  shoot 
you."  And,  the  gun  not  being  loaded,  he 
promptly  blew  Sandy  full  of  bird-shot.  I  Ve 
heard  about  these  wonderful  destroyers— can 
non  a  quarter  of  a  mile  long,  that  shoot  bullets 
the  size  of  hogsheads  with  force  enough  to 
knock  a  grasshopper  off  a  spear  of  wheat  at 
twenty-three  and  one  third  miles;  and  while 
I  'm  somewhat  impressed,  I  can't  but  feel 
there  's  nothing  like  the  old-fashioned,  reliable, 
unloaded  gun.  Who  ever  heard  of  man,  wo 
man,  or  child  missing  with  a  gun  that  was  n't 
loaded?  If  I  was  a  leader  of  a  forlorn  hope  in 
particularly  sad  conditions,  I  'd  say  to  my 
trusty  men,  "Boys,  them  guns  ain't  loaded," 
and  instantly  close  a  contract  at  so  much  a  ton 
for  removing  the  remnants  of  the  enemy. 

38 


Sandy  Gray 

It  cost  Sammy's  father  many  a  dollar  to 
square  it  with  Gray's  folks.  They  were  a  hard 
outfit,  anyhow— what  is  called  white  trash 
down  South.  The  father  used  to  get  drunk, 
come  home,  break  the  furniture,  and  throw  the 
old  woman  out  of  the  house;  that  is,  if  she 
did  n  't  happen  to  be  drunk  at  the  time.  In  the 
last  case,  he  come  home,  got  the  furniture  broke 
on  him,  and  was  thrown  out  of  the  house. 

It  was  n't  an  ideal  home,  like  Miss  Doolittle 
is  always  talking  about.  The  kids  gave  Sandy 
a  wide  berth  after  the  shooting,  but  my  sym 
pathies  went  out  to  him.  He  was  a  good  open 
ing,  you  see.  I  want  to  state  right  here,  though, 
it  was  n't  all  getting  my  name  up.  All  my  life 
I  Ve  had  a  womanish  horror  of  men  or  animals 
with  their  gear  out  of  order.  I  'd  walk  ten 
mile  to  dodge  a  cripple.  And  this  here  Sandy, 
with  his  queer  little  hop,  and  his  little  claw 
hands,  and  his  twist  to  one  side,  and  his  long 
nose,  and  his  little  black  eyes,  and  his  black 
hair  hanging  in  streaks  down  on  his  yaller  and 

39 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

dirt-colored  face,  looked  like  nothing  else  on 
earth  so  much  as  a  boiled  pet  crow. 

When  I  jumped  over  the  Grays'  back  fence, 
I  see  my  friend  Sandy  playing  behind  the  ruin 
they  called  a  barn.  Execution  was  the  game  he 
played.  He  had  a  gallows  fixed  up  real  natu 
ral.  Just  as  I  come  up  he  was  hanging  a  cat. 

"The  Lord  have  mercy  on  your  soul!" 
squeaks  Sandy,  pulling  the  drop.  Down  goes 
the  cat,  wriggling  so  natural  she  near  lost  a 
half  a  dozen  of  her  lives  before  I  recovered 
enough  to  interfere.  I  resisted  a  craving  to 
kick  Mr.  Sandy  over  the  barn,  and  struck  in  to 
amuse  him  at  something  else.  First  off,  he 
hung  back,  but  by  and  by  I  had  him  tearing 
around  lively,  because  we  were  aboard  ship 
with  a  storm  coming  up  to  port,  a  pirate  to 
sta'bbud,  breakers  forrud,  and  a  rocky  coast 
aft.  Anybody  would  step  quick  under  them 
conditions.  So  Sandy  he  moseyed  aloft  and 
hollered  down  the  pirates  was  gaining  on  us, 
the  storm  approaching  fast,  the  breakers 

40 


Sandy  Gray 

breaking  worse  than  ever,  and  the  rock-bound 
coast  holding  its  own.  I  hastily  mounted  three 
cord  wood  cannon,  reefed  the  barn  door,  and 
battened  down  the  hatches  in  the  chicken-coop, 
without  a  hen  being  the  wiser. 

We  were  in  the  most  interesting  part  when 
an  unexpected  enemy  arrived  on  the  scene,  in 
the  person  of  Sandy's  mother,  and  did  us  in  a 
single  pass.  She  saw  him  up  in  the  tree;  she 
give  me  one  glare  and  begun  to  talk. 

I  climbed  the  fence  and  went  home.  All  the 
way  back  I  felt  this  was  a  wicked  and  ungrate 
ful  world.  The  more  I  thought  about  it,  the 
worse  I  felt.  I  wanted  to  get  to  my  own  room 
without  mother's  seeing  me,  but  she  came  to 
the  head  of  the  stair  when  I  was  half  up. 
"Well,  son,"  she  says,  smiling  so  it  did  n't 
seem  quite  such  a  desert,  "how  did  you  make 
out  with  the  little  Gray  boy!" 

"Oh,  not  anything  special,"  says  I,  airily, 
hoping  to  pass  by. 

"Come  in  and  tell  me,"  she  says.    So  I  went 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

in,  hedging  at  first,  but  limbering  up  when  she 
stroked  my  hair.  Finally  my  wrongs  come  out 
hot  and  fast.  I  told  about  his  hanging  the  cat, 
and  made  it  as  bad  as  I  could.  I  enlarged  upon 
the  care  and  pains  I  spent  in  leading  him  into 
better  ways. 

"And,  then,"  says  I,  "just  as  we  were  hav 
ing  a  good  time,  that  mother  of  his  comes  out. 
And  what  do  you  suppose  she  says  ? ' ' 

Mother  rubbed  her  hand  over  her  mouth, 
swallowed  once  or  twice,  and  managed  to  look 
as  serious  as  anything.  ' 1 1  can 't  imagine, ' '  she 
answers ; ' '  you  tell  me. ' ' 

I  shook  my  finger.  ' '  Can  I  say  exactly  what 
that  woman  said  ? ' ' 

"Yes." 

"Well,"  says  I,  imitating  Mrs.  Gray,  voice 
and  all— voice  like  a  horse-fiddle,  head  stuck 
front,  and  elbows  wide  apart— "well,"  I  says, 
"she  looked  up  the  tree  and  saw  Sandy. 
'Sandy  Gra-a-y!'  she  hollers;  'Sandy  Gray! 
42 


Sandy  Gray 

You  one-eyed,  warp-sided,  nateral-born  fool! 
What  you  mean,  playing  with  that  Bill  Saun- 
ders  I  You  come  in  this  house  quick,  afore  you 
git  you '  other  gol-darnn  eye  knocked  out ! ' 

Mother  dropped  her  sewing  and  had  a  fit  on 
the  spot.  That  made  me  mad  for  a  minute. 
Then  I  laughed,  too. 

"Don't  give  up,  Will,"  says  mother.  "It 
takes  time  to  learn  to  do  the  right  thing.  You 
kiss  your  mother  and  forget  all  about  it— you 
did  n't  want  Mrs.  Gray  to  pay  you  for  amusing 
Sandy,  anyway,  did  you  <? ' ' 

"Of  course  not,"  I  replies.  "But  she 
need  n't  of  ...  Darn  him,  he  was  hanging  a 
cat!" 

Mother  went  off  the  handle  again. 

"Perhaps  you  like,  people  who  hang  cats!" 
I  says,  very  scornful,  the  sore  spot  hurting 
again. 

"Now,  Will,  don't  be  silly!"  says  mother. 
"Try  again;  think  how  funny  it  would  have 

43 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

seemed  to  you,  if  it  had  happened  to  any  one 
else." 

"That  's  so,"  I  admits,  my  red  hair  smooth 
ing  down.  "Well,  I  '11  try  again ;  but  no  more 
Sandy  Grays. ' ' 


44 


IV 


THE    FIGHT 

THE  next  day  my  friend  Mrs.  Gray  way 
laid  father,  and  told  him  fervently  she 
did  n  't  want  me  teachin '  her  Sandy  none  of  my 
fool  tricks. 

And  the  old  gentleman  read  me  the  riot  act 
trimmed  me  to  a  peak,  by  word  of  mouth, 
There  's  where  me  and  righteous  conduct  near 
parted  company.  I  'm  afraid  I  sassed  the  old 
man  a  little.  I  was  awful  sore,  you  know. 
Anyway,  it  wound  up  unpleasant.  Father 
would  n't  listen  to  my  side,  as  usual,  and  I  '11 
leave  it  to  any  man  that  's  tried  to  do  the  right 
thing  and  had  it  explode  with  him  to  realize 
how  I  felt.  Boys  have  feelings.  There  's  lots 
of  folk  don't  believe  it,  but  I  Ve  studied  boys 

45 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

to  a  certain  extent,  and  I  'm  willing  to  bet  small 
sums  they  're  almost  like  persons  in  that  re 
spect. 

I  got  ugly  under  the  pressure.  Then  I  beat 
the  head  near  off  Anker 's  slimy  little  whelp,  as 
the  only  relief  in  sight.  That  was  dead  wrong. 
He  was  'way  smaller  'n  me,  and  had  n't  done 
nothing  at  the  time  to  deserve  it.  I  went  on 
father's  principle  that  although  no  immediate 
cause  was  visible,  yet  there  was  plenty  in  the 
past  and  future  to  lick  him  for,  so  I  lammed  his 
both  eyes  black,  bunged  up  his  nose,  and  sent 
him  hollering  home.  He  met  our  school 
teacher  on  the  way.  Mr.  Judson  and  I  come 
together  fairly  regular,  yet  we  liked  each  other. 
He  was  a  square  man,  Samuel  Judson,  and  he 
knew  kids  from  thirty  years'  experience.  He 
never  made  but  one  mistake  with  me,  and  he 
come  out  and  begged  my  pardon  before  the 
whole  school  for  that.  Father  sneered  at  his 
doing  it— saying  a  teacher  ought  to  uphold  dis 
cipline,  and  to  beg  a  boy's  pardon  was  just  in- 


The  Fight 

viting  all  kinds  of  skulduggery.  Howsom- 
ever,  Sammy  Judson  won  me  by  that  play. 
When  lie  put  the  gad  on  me  it  was  with  the  best 
of  feelings  on  both  sides.  I  can  see  the  old  lad 
now,  smiling  a  thin  little  smile,  sort  of  sour- 
castic,  yet  real  kind  underneath,  whilst  he 
twiddled  the  switch  in  his  hands. 

"  Just  let  me  trim  a  certain  amount  of  fool 
ishness  out  of  you,  and  you  '11  make  a  fine  man 
—a  -fine  man,  William,"  he  'd  say.  And  per 
haps  you  think  that  small  thin  gentleman 
did  n  't  know  how  to  make  a  hickory  bite !  He 
could  get  every  tender  spot,  by  instinct. 

Well,  he  met  young  Mr.  Anker,  as  I  was  say 
ing,  and  asked  him  what  ailed  him.  Algy  ex 
plained  the  foul  way  I  treated  him,  careful  not 
to  let  the  tale  lose  anything. 

"Ah!"  says  Sammy,  "and  what  was  this 
for?" 

"For  nothing  at  all— not  a  thing!" 

Sammy  looks  at  him  from  under  his  shaggy 
eyebrows.  "I  've  often  longed  to  thrash  you 

4-7 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

for  that  same  reason,"  says  lie,  and  marches 
on. 

But  lovely  Peter!  Father  handed  me  back 
my  mistreating  Algy  with  interest  on  the  in 
vestment.  Pheeew!  And  talk!  I  was  the 
most  cowardly  brute  in  the  country— to  assault 
and  batter  a  poor,  nice,  gentlemanly  little  boy 
—a  great  big  hulking  scoundrel  like  myself— 
why,  it  passed  all  crimes  in  history.  Old  Uncle 
Nero  scratching  the  fiddle,  while  the  fire-insur 
ance  companies  tore  their  hair,  was  a  public 
benefactor  compared  to  me. 

That  passed.  I  was  only  hindered,  not 
stopped,  in  my  reckless  career  of  Village 
Pride.  I  'm  a  kind  of  determined  cuss.  But 
Fate  sprung  a  stuffed  deck  on  me.  I  did  a 
piece  of  reforming  really  worth  doing,  but  it 
cost  me  my  home.  Moreover,  I  was  perfectly 
innocent  of  the  intention.  Don't  it  beat  the 
devil!  To  tell  it  longhand,  the  play  come  up 
like  this : 

We  had  a  party  in  our  town  who  deserved  a 


The  Fight 

statue  in  the  Hall— Mary  Ann  McCracken  by 
name.  She  was  a  Holy  Terror.  Never  before 
nor  since  have  I  seen  anything  like  Mary  Ann. 
I  reckon  she  had  about  sixty  years  to  her 
credit,  and  two  hundred  pounds  to  show  for 
'em.  She  ran  a  dairy  up  on  the  hill,  doing  her 
own  milking  and  delivering,  with  only  one 
long-suffering  man  to  help  out.  I  always  re 
member  that  man  walking  around  with  one 
hand  flying  in  the  air,  talking  to  himself,  but 
when  Miss  Mary  Ann  said  in  her  bass  voice, 
"Pete!  You  Pete!"  "Yessum,  yessum!" 
says  Pete  as  polite  as  possible. 

The  old  lady  used  to  bend  slowly  toward  you, 
as  if  taking  aim  with  her  nose,  and  she  fired  her 
remarks  through  and  through  you.  She  'd 
sprung  a  plank  somewhere,  and  had  a  little 
list  to  the  side,  but  not  at  all  enough  so  she 
could  n't  take  care  of  her  own  business  and  any 
other  body's  that  come  her  way.  AVhen  she 
went  by  father's  house  she  used  to  roar, 
"Hark,  froom  the  toomb— a  doooleful  sound!" 

49 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

because  she  hated  everything  concerning  fa 
ther's  church,  from  the  cellar  to  the  lightning- 
rod.  One  day  she  was  talking  to  mother,  that 
she  happened  to  like,  snorting  scornful,  as  was 
her  custom,  when  father  had  the  bad  luck  to 
appear  on  the  scene. 

"Adele  Delatter,"  says  Mary  Ann,  "what 
made  you  marry  that  man  ? ' '  pointing  a  finger 
at  father  like  a  horse-pistol.  "What  made 
you  marry  him,  hell?  hen?  Don't  you  an 
swer  me.  Hunh.  He  ain't  got  blood  in  his 
veins  at  all ;  he  turns  decent  vittels  to  vinegar. 
Hah.  His  mother's  milk  curddled  in  his  stum- 
mick."  She  humped  up  her  back  and  shook 
both  fists.  "He  orter  married  me!"  says  she; 
"I  'd  'a'  fixed  him!  He  'd  orter  married 
ME!"  She  b'iled  over  entirely  and  galloped 
for  the  gate.  "I  'd  wring  his  cussed  neck,  if 
I  stayed  a  minute  longer ! ' '  she  hollers.  When 
she  got  in  the  wagon  she  rumbled  and  ' '  pah  'd ' ' 
and  "humphed."  Then  she  stuck  her  red  face 
out  and  yelled,  ' '  Orter  married  me.  /  'd  give 

Presc, T.^?  to 


Seattle,  Washington 


The  Fight 

him  all  the  hell  he  needed!  Pah,  pish,  yah! 
Git  out  o '  here,  Jacky  hoss,  before  you  take  to 
singin '  hymns  ! ' ' 

She  's  the  only  human  being  I  ever  met  that 
did  just  exactly  what  he,  she,  or  it  sweetly 
damned  pleased  to  do.  In  that  way,  she  's  rest 
ful  to  remember.  Most  of  us  have  got  to  cop 
per,  once  in  a  while ;  but  nothing  above,  below, 
nor  between  ever  made  her  hedge  a  mill. 

Well,  I  was  walking  home  from  Sunday- 
school  with  Miss  Hitty  one  Sunday,  trying  to 
get  points  on  my  new  system,  when  who  should 
we  see  bearin'  down  the  street,  all  sails  set  and 
every  gun  loaded,  but  Miss  Mary  Ann  Mc- 
Cracken !  The  first  blast  she  give  us  was : 

"Ha,  Mehitabel!  Gallivantin'  around  with 
the  boys,  now  that  the  men  's  give  out,  hey?" 

Poor  little  Miss  Hitty  was  flummexed  fool 
hardy.  She  stuttered  out  some  kind  of  answer, 
instead  of  breakin'  for  home. 

' '  Oh,  my !  my !  my ! ' '  says  Mary  Ann,  not 
paying  the  least  attention  to  Miss  Hitty 's  re- 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

marks.  ' '  My ! ' '  says  she,  ' '  you  'd  ought  to 
shuck  them  clothes.  What  you  wastin'  your 
time  on  boys  fur!  You  was  always  horribly, 
Hitty ;  yes,  but  you  're  clean— I  '11  say  that  for 
you— you  're  clean.  You  stand  some  chance 
yet.  You  git  married  and  shuck  them  clothes— 
but  shuck  them  clothes  anyhow!" 

You  could  have  heard  her  to  Willet  's  Moun 
tain.  And  away  she  flew. 

Miss  Hitty  cried  all  the  way  home.  I  did  my 
best  to  comfort  her,  but  Mary  Ann  jabbed  deep. 
She  was  child  entirely  when  we  reached  her 
front  door,  and  she  turned  to  me  just  like  a 
child. 

"Must  I  wear  different  clothes,  Will?"  she 
says. 

"Not  a  darn  bit,"  says  I.  "Not  for  all  the 
jealous,  pop-eyed  old  Jezebels  in  ten  town 
ships." 

She  stood  a  moment,  relieved,  but  still  doubt 
ful.  "I  don't  know  but  what  I  should,"  she 
said.  Then  I  got  in  the  argument  that  went 

52 


"  '  \  mi  yit  marrii'il  anil  shtit'k  them  i-lothes  ' '' 


The  Fight 

every  time,  on  every  question,  in  those  parts. 
"Why,  Miss  Hitty!"  I  says,  "how  you  talk! 
Think  of  the  cost  of  it!" 

She  was  so  grateful  she  threw  both  arms  and 
her  parasol  around  my  neck  and  kissed  me  then 
and  there.  "I  won't !"  she  says,  stamping  her 
foot,  "I  won't!  I  won't!"  and  she  swept  into 
the  house  real  spirited,  like  a  high-strung 
mouse. 

So  it  come  I  was  Miss  Hitty 's  champion. 

Algy  Anker  happened  to  see  Miss  Hitty  kiss 
me,  and,  of  course,  I  heard  from  it.  All  the 
gay  wags  in  town  took  a  fly  out  of  me.  Even 
old  Eli  led  me  mysteriously  to  one  side  and 
whispered  he  believed  in  helping  young  fellers, 
so,  when  I  was  getting  my  outfit — he  winked— 
why,  he  'd  make  a  big  reduction  in  tinware.  I 
stood  most  of  the  gaffing  pretty  well,  although 
I  could  n  't  stop  at  any  place  without  adding  to 
the  collection  of  rural  jokes,  but  at  last  one 
man  stepped  over  the  line  that  separates  a  red 
head  from  war. 

55 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

There  was  always  a  crowd  of  country  loaf 
ers  around  the  tavern.  A  city  loafer  ain't  like 
a  country  loafer.  The  city  loafer  is  a  black 
guard  that  ain't  got  a  point  in  his  favor,  except 
that  he  's  different  from  the  country  loafer. 

One  day  I  had  to  go  by  the  tavern  and  I  see 
Mick  Murphy  tilted  back  in  his  chair,  hat  over 
eyes,  thumbs  in  suspenders;  big  neck  busting 
his  shirt  open,  big  legs  busting  through  the 
pants'  legs,  big  feet  busting  through  the  ends 
of  his  curved-up  shoes,  and  a  week 's  growth  of 
pig-bristles  busting  out  of  his  red  face.  Mick 
was  the  bold  bully  of  the  rough  crowd— fellers 
from  twenty  to  twenty-five.  He  worked  till  he 
got  money  enough  to  buy  whisky,  then  he  got 
drunk  and  licked  somebody. 

The  course  of  such  lads  is  pretty  regular. 
Mick  was  about  a  year  from  robbing  hen 
roosts.  Next  to  hen-roosts  comes  holding  up 
the  lone  farmer.  Then  the  gang  gets  brash  en 
tirely,  two  or  three  are  killed,  and  the  rest  land 
in  the  pen.  You  would  n  't  believe  hardly  what 

56 


The  Fight 

kiddish  minds  these  ignorant,  hulking  brutes 
have  sometimes,  nor  how,  sometimes,  they 
come  to  the  front,  big,  bigger  than  life-size.  A 
painter  would  n't  waste  a  minute  putting  down 
Mick  Murphy  as  a  thing  of  beauty.  Little  bits 
of  eyes,  near  hid  with  whisky  bloat;  big  puffy 
lips,  stained  with  tobacco  juice  till  they  looked 
like  the  blood  was  coming  through;  dirty- 
handed,  dirty-clothed,  and  dirty-mouthed— 
yah!  And  still— well,  when  I  remember  how 
that  bulldozer  went  up  a  burning  flight  of 
stairs,  tore  a  burning  door  off  with  them  big 
dirty  hands,  and  brought  a  little  girl  down 
through  a  wallow  of  flames,  taking,  the  coat  off 
his  back  to  wrap  around  her,  and  how  the  pride 
of  the  man  come  out  when  the  mother  stumbled 
toward  him,  calling  on  God  to  reward  him,  and 
he  straightened  under  the  pain  and  said,  "Ah, 
that  's  all  right,  ledy !  'F  your  ol'  man  '11 
stand  a  drink  an'  a  new  shirt  we  '11  call  it 
square."  The  son-of-a-gun  never  left  his  bed 
for  six  weeks — why,  he  was  broiled  all  down 

57 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

one  side— why,  when  I  remember  that,  I  can't 
call  up  such  a  disgust  for  old  Mick. 

As  I  said,  I  see  Mick  Murphy  leaning  back 
in  his  chair  at  the  tavern.  Of  course,  he  had 
a  word  to  say  about  me  and  Miss  Hitty.  Now, 
the  bare  sight  of  Mick  used  to  make  the  hair 
stand  up  on  the  back  of  my  neck  and  growls 
boil  inside  of  me.  I  just  naturally  disliked  that 
man.  So  I  sassed  him  plenty.  He  got  mad  and 
threatened  to  slap  my  face.  I  sassed  him  more, 
and  he  did  slap  my  face.  In  one  twenty-fifth 
of  a  second  I  caught  him  on  his  rum-bouquet 
and  sent  him  plumb  off  his  feet— not  bad  for  a 
sixteen-year-old,  when  you  consider  the  other 
party  was  an  accomplished  rough-houser.  Yes, 
sir,  he  went  right  down,  clean,  more  from  the 
quickness  than  the  stuff  behind  the  blow,  as 
I  had  n't  anywheres  near  grew  into  my 
strength  yet.  The  tavern  crowd  set  up  a  roar, 
and  then  jumped  to  interfere,  for  Mick  he 
roared,  too,  and  made  to  pull  me  apart.  The 
onlookers  would  n't  stand  for  it.  They  were  n't 

58 


The  Fight 

such  higii-toned  gents,  but  a  contest  between 
a  leggy  kid  and  a  powerful  man  looked  too  far 
off  the  level. 

"You  run,"  says  one  fellow  to  me.  "We  '11 
hold  him. ' '  But  hanged  if  I  was  going  to  run. 
My  thoughts  was  a  mix,  as  usual  in  such  cases 
—most  of  it  hardly  thinking  at  all,  and  the  rest 
a  kind  of  white-hot  wish  to  damage  something, 
and  a  desire  to  hustle  away  from  there  before 
I  got  hurt.  Then,  too,  it  had  reached  the  limit 
about  Miss  Hitty— I  sure  was  n't  going  to 
stand  hearing  her  name  mishandled  by  tavern 
loafers.  Yet  the  principal  cause  for  my  stay 
ing  was  my  anxiety  to  leave.  That  big,  bel 
lowing  Irishman,  dragging  a  half-dozen  men 
to  get  at  me,  blood  streaming  down  his  face, 
and  his  expression  far  from  agreeable,  put  a 
crimp  in  my  soul,  and  don't  you  forget  it.  But 
I  understood  that  this  was  my  first  man's-size 
proposition,  and  if  I  did  n't  take  my  licking 
like  a  man  I  never  could  properly  respect 
myself  afterward.  So  whilst  my  legs  were 

59 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

pleading,  "Come,  Willie,  let  's  trot  and  see  mo 
ther—it  will  be  pleasanter,"  I  raked  my  sys 
tem  for  sand  and  stood  pat. 

I  knew  a  trick  or  two  about  assaulting  your 
fellow-man  as  well  as  Mick,  when  you  come  to 
that.  Fighting  is  really  as  good  an  education 
for  fighting  as  sparring  is,  and  perhaps  a  little 
better.  It  ain't  so  much  a  question  of  how  you 
make  your  props  and  parries,  as  how  much 
damage  you  inflict  upon  the  party  of  the  second 
part. 

* '  Let  him  come ! "  I  says.  ' '  What  you  hold 
ing  him  for,  's  if  he  was  a  ragin'  lion  or  some 
thing!  Let  go  of  him!" 

"You  skip,  you  darn  fool,"  says  my  first 
friend.  "  He  '11  eat  you  raw. " 

"Well,  it  will  be  my  funeral,"  I  says.  "If 
you  will  see  he  don't  put  me  down  and  gouge 
my  eye  out,  I  '11  take  him  as  he  comes. ' ' 

Gouging  was  a  great  trick  with  that  gang,— 
I  feared  it  more  than  death  itself. 

Just  at  that  minute  old  Eli  drove  up.  ' '  What 
60 


The  Fight 

in  tarnation  's  this?"  says  lie.  When  he  found 
out,  he  tried  to  make  me  go  home,  but  all  this 
advice  I  did  n  't  want  had  made  me  more  deter 
mined.  I  got  crying  mad.  ' '  Gol-ding  it  all  to 
thunder!"  says  I,  hopping  up  and  down. 
"You  see  me  fair  play  and  turn  him  loose,  Eli. 
I  want  one  more  swat  at  him,— just  let  me  hit 
him  once  more,  and  I  '11  go  home." 

Eli  was  a  tall,  round-shouldered  man,  who 
looked  like  a  cross  between  a  prosperous  min 
ister  and  a  busted  lawyer.  He  had  a  consump 
tive  cough,  and  an  easy,  smoothing  way  with 
his  hands,  always  sort  of  apologizing.  Several 
men  had  been  led  astray  by  these  appearances, 
and  picked  a  quarrel  with  Eli.  Two  weeks  in 
bed  was  the  average  for  making  that  mistake. 

He  looked  at  me  with  his  head  sideways,  pull 
ing  his  chin  whisker.  i '  Billy, ' '  says  he, ' '  I  hev 
experienced  them  sentiments  myself.  It  shell 
be  as  you  say."  He  went  to  his  wagon,  and 
drew  out  a  muzzle-loading  pistol  from  under 
the  seat.  The  pistol  was  loaded  with  buck- 

61 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

shot,  and  four  fingers  of  powder  to  push  it,  as 
every  one  around  knew.  He  walked  up  to  Mick 
and  put  the  touch  of  a  cold,  gray,  Yankee  eye 
on  him.  "Young  man,"  he  says,  "I  ain't  for 
your  clawin',  chawin',  kickin'  style  of  con- 
ductin '  a  row,  so  I  tell  you  this :  you  fight  that 
boy  fair,  or  I  '11  mix  buckshot  with  your 
whisky.— Turn  your  bullock  loose!" 

The  men  let  go  of  him,  and  he  come. 

Fortunately,  I  remember  every  detail  of  that 
scrap,  clear  as  crystal.  I  led  with  my  left,  and 
Mick  countered  with  his  chin.  A  thunder 
storm  hit  me  in  the  left  ear.  Kerbang,  ker- 
swot.  Scurry-scurry,  biff-biff-biff.  Somebody 
hit  somewhere.  Somebody  with  a  pain  in  the 
neck.  No  time  to  find  out  who  it  is.  Zip, 
smash,  rip ;  more  pains ;  streaks  of  fire  on  the 
horizon;  must  have  run  aground.  Roar-roar- 
bump,— ah,  bully  for  you,  Billy!  Slam  him, 
Mick !  Hit  him  again,  sonny !  You  got  him ! 
Now  you  got  him !  Aaaay-hooray ! 

Here  we  go,  bumping  over  the  ties.  Right 
62 


The  Fight 

over  the  edge  of  the  trestle,— bing!  C'm'  off 'n 
him,  you  big  black  whelp,  aggh !  le'  go  !  Twist 
his  thumb !  Kick  the  brute !  Get  up,  boy ! 
Koooor  swishz. — Where  in  thunder  did  the 
big  black  thing  come  from?  Never  mind.  No 
time  to  stop.  Lovely  Peter!  How  she 
rolls!  Who  's  sick!— Mick,  probably.  Light 
ning  struck,  that  time.  .  .  .  Again  .  .  . 
Mmmmmmearrrrr  .  .  .  dark  .  .  .  dark.  Raining 
ice-water !  He  's  all  right !  Give  him  a  little 
air !  Somebody  crying,  "I  did  the  best  I  could 
by  him,  Eli;  g-gu-gug-gol-darn  him!"  More 
light.  Daybreak,  and  here  I  am  again,  on  the 
ground,  wet  to  the  hide,  the  bucket  they  emp 
tied  on  me  alongside,  and  Eli  holding  my  head 
up.  And  what  's  the  thing  opposite,  with  one 
eye  swelled  shut,  and  a  mouth  the  size  of  a 
breakfast-roll?— Why,  it  's  Mick! 

"Did  he  lick  me,  Eli?"  says  I. 

Eli  laughed  kind  of  nervous.  "Neither  you, 
nor  him,  nor  me,  will  ever  know,"  says  he. 
"He  's  willing  to  call  it  a  draw. ' ' 

65 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

I  staggered  to  my  feet  and  wabbled  to  my 
partner  in  the  dance,  holding  out  my  hand. 
' '  Much  obliged  to  you,  Mick, ' '  says  I. 

He  leaned  back  and  laughed,  till  I  joined,  as 
well  as  I  could,  for  crying.  He  grabbed  my 
hand  and  shook  it.  "Yer  all  right,"  says  he. 
"Sorry  I  am  I  said  a  word  to  ye.  An'  yer 
th'  h—  of  a  red-headed  bye  to  fight.  I  Ve 
enough." 

Whilst  I  was  a  simple  lad,  I  was  n't  a  fool. 
For  me  to  hold  that  two-hundred-and-twenty- 
five-pound  rough-and-tumble  fighter  even,  was 
impossible.  He  was  ashamed  of  the  whole 
thing.  As  soon  as  his  ugly  temper  had  the  edge 
knocked  off  it,  he  took  that  way  of  closing  the 
deal.  No  bad  man  at  all,  old  Mick. 

' '  You  say  that  to  save  my  feelings, ' '  I  said. 

"What  's  that  I"  says  he,  rough  and  hard. 
' '  Off  with  ye ! "  He  would  n  't  admit  being  de 
cent  for  a  farm.  He  swung  away.  Then  I  got 
another  jar.  A  voice  called  me  and  I  swung 
around. 

66 


ON    MY   BUKEAU    WAS    A    KNIFE—" 

MY  father  stood  behind  me,  such  a  picture 
it  chills  me  to  think  of  him.  All  of  his 
face  was  chalk- white ;  his  hands  shook  like 
palsy.  I  reckon  I  can  slide  over  the  next  little 
while.  You  guess  what  a  crazy-mad  man, 
who  's  fed  his  mind  on  darkness  for  years, 
would  be  likely  to  do.  I  never  raised  a  hand  in 
defense— took  it.  At  the  same  time  I  made  my 
mind  up  to  end  this  business,  quick  and  strong. 
I  had  enough. 

Of  course,  from  father's  point  of  view,  some 
thing  could  be  said.  Had  I  been  drunk  and 
fighting  at  the  tavern,  as  my  nice,  gentlemanly 
little  friend,  Algy  Anker,  ran  and  told  him,  no 
body  'd  blamed  him  for  getting  orry-eyed. 

67 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

But  he  might  have  asked  me  what  I  had  to  say 
—a  woman-killer  gets  that  show.  He  used  me 
bad  enough,  so  Eli  interfered.  "I  don't  care  if 
I  never  sell  another  thing  to  you,"  says  he; 
"but,  neighbor,  you  sha'n't  hit  thet  boy  ag'in 
—no,  now!  There  's  no  use  to  squirm— you 
sha'n't  do  it,  and  that  's  all.  You  run  along, 
Bill." 

When  mother  saw  me,  she  cried  out.  I  was 
a  sight,  for  sure.  Ought  to  have  washed  up  a 
bit,  and  not  give  her  such  a  shock,  but  my  head 
was  sizzing  like  a  pin-wheel.  Only  one  idea 
stuck. 

; '  I  'm  not  hurt  much,  mother, ' '  I  says.  ' '  I 
want  to  speak  to  you. ' ' 

Mother  was  quick-witted  and  hardy-witted, 
too.  She  knew  there  was  no  boy  foolishness  in 
this,  so  she  choked  down  her  feelings,  got  a 
basin,  clean  water,  and  a  towel,  and  said, ' '  Tell 
me  while  I  bathe  your  face. ' ' 

I  told  her.  It  was  queer  how  quiet  I  felt.  I 
don't  know  but  what  it  's  always  that  way, 

68 


"  On  my  Bureau  was  a  Knife- 
though,  when  a  man  has  made  his  mind  up 
tight.     We  seemed  almost  of  an  age,  mother 
and  me,  that  little  while. 

She  pleaded  with  me.  " Don't  leave  your 
home,  Will.  I  have  been  wrong;  I  should  have 
done  more ;  I  did  n  't,  thinking  things  would 
right  themselves ;  but  now  I  '11  promise  to  stand 
between." 

"And  what  will  your  life  be  like?"  I  asked 
her.  I  grew  old  pretty  fast,  under  pressure. 

' '  Never  mind  that ! ' '  she  cried.  ' '  My  boy,  to 
have  you  with  me— 

"Sh!"  I  says.  "How  could  I  help  minding 
it?" 

She  was  still. 

"And  worse  might  come,"  I  went  on.     "I 
don't  like  to  say  it,  yet  every  time  I  could  n't 
promise  to  be  ...  There   'd  come  a  day  too 
often  ...  I    'm  strong,   and  if  I  should— 
She  put  her  hand  on  my  lips. 

"Go  to  your  room,  Will;  and  let  me  think 
alone  for  a  while,"  she  said.  She  caught  me 

69 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

and  held  me  close,  with  never  a  tear,  but  a  look 
worse  than  an  ocean  of  tears.  I  could  n  't  have 
stood  it,  if  I  had  n't  known  I  was  doing  the 
right  thing.  To  a  dead  certainty,  there  would 
be  no  peace  with  me  in  the  house.  Any  doubts 
anybody  might  have  had  was  removed  when 
father  come  in.  He  went  straight  to  mother's 
room.  I  heard  him  shouting;  talking  so  fast 
his  words  were  broken;  stamping  around; 
quoting  Scripture  one  minute,  crying  threats 
and  slaughter  the  next.  It  was  pitiful.  I  hus 
tled,  getting  things  ready ;  I  knew,  a  little  more 
of  listening,  and  I  'd  have  nothing  but  con 
tempt  for  my  father.  Then  mother's  voice 
rung  out,  telling  him  to  leave  until  he  could 
talk  like  a  man.  Usually,  she  could  force  him, 
when  she  wished,  hers  being  so  much  bigger  a 
mind,  but  this  time  the  littler  soul  was  beyond 
itself  with  fury.  " Don't  take  that  tone  with 
me ! "  he  roared.  l '  I  won 't  stand  it !  And  as  for 
the  lies  that  boy  told  you,  I  '11  have  them  out  of 
his  back!"  Their  door  slammed  open,  and  he 
fairly  ran  toward  mine.  I  jumped  and  locked 
70 


"  On  my  Bureau  was  a  Knife- 
it.    Mother  was  close  after  him.    "You  shall 
not!"  she  said.    "Listen  to  reason!    You  've 
done  enough  harm—     Oh!"  she  cried,  in  pain. 
I  thought  he  hit  her. 

What  I  feared  boiled  up  in  me.  On  my  bu 
reau  was  a  knife;  a  big,  heavy  knife,  that  got 
into  my  hand  somehow.  It  was  me  and  the 
devil  for  that  round.  How  long  I  stood  with 
the  knife  raised,  I  don't  know.  Then  mother 
spoke  calmly.  "You  hurt  my  arm,  holding  it 
so  tight,"  she  said.  "That  certainly  is  n't 
necessary."  He  had  grace  enough  to  beg  her 
pardon.  Finally,  she  got  him  to  leave.  A  good 
job.  That  day  had  been  a  trifle  too  much  for 
me,  already.  I  can't  see  a  bare  knife  since, 
without  a  shudder.  Don't  like  the  glint  of  steel 
at  all.  Years  after,  a  flash  of  sun  on  water 
would  bring  things  back,  and  I  'd  have  a  sick 
ness  in  the  stomach. 

An  hour  after,  mother  came  in.  "Well,  my 
boy,  you  are  right,"  she  says,  as  if  the  very  life 
were  out  of  her. 

"Yes,"  I  says,  thinking  of  the  knife;  "and 

71 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

I  '11  just  slide  out  quiet,  and  no  trouble  to  any 
body." 

She  roused  herself.  "You  will  leave  in  day 
light,  my  son,"  she  says,  "with  your  mother  to 
say  good-by.  You  have  done  nothing  wrong, 
and  you  sha'n't  leave  ashamed." 

"But,  mother,  that  will  make  it  bad  for 
you,"  I  says. 

"I  married  your  father;  I  brought  you  into 
the  world,"  she  says.  "I  know  my  duty,  and 
I  shall  do  it,  if  it  costs  all  our  lives,  let  alone  a 
little  trouble.  And,  besides,"  she  says,  getting 
up,  excited,  "no  matter  what  any  one  can  say, 
you  've  been  a  good—  She  broke  down,  all 
at  once.  The  rest  of  it  she  cried  into  my  shoul 
der,  whilst  I  told  her  about  how  I  'd  be  rich  and 
great  in  no  time,  and  father  'd  come  around  all 
right  after  a  while,  and  we  'd  all  be  happy,  till 
she  felt  better.  And  I  believed  it  myself  so 
strong,  and  put  it  out  so  clear,  that  I  think  I 
convinced  her.  Anyway,  they  got  along  all 
right  after  I  left.  That  's  a  comfort. 

72 


"  On  my  Bureau  was  a  Knife- 
So  it  was  arranged.  I  should  n't  say  any 
thing,  but  keep  out  of  father's  way  until  she 
made  him  yield  the  point.  She  laid  it  out  to  the 
old  gentleman  clear  and  straight,  Mattie  tells 
me— (Mattie's  mother  was  my  mother's  half- 
sister)— telling  him  I  was  n't  drunk,  as  he 
could  readily  prove,  and  as  for  the  fighting,  if 
he  intended  to  beat  me  every  time  I  defended 
a  woman,  why,  she  'd  leave,  too.  That  part  of 
it  stuck  in  mother's  mind;  she  would  not  listen 
when  I  told  her  it  was  only  one  of  the  reasons 
for  the  row.  And  she  summed  the  thing  up  by 
saying  I  was  determined  to  leave ;  that  it  was 
best  all  around;  and  that  he  must  act  like  a 
human  being  and  a  father  for  once.  By  this 
time,  I  reckon  he  did  n  't  feel  so  terrible  proud 
of  himself.  At  least,  it  was  pulled  off  easy.  I 
left  home,  with  some  small  money  in  my  pocket, 
a  trunk  of  clothes  in  Eli's  care,  and  mother  and 
father  both  waving  me  good-by  in  the  road,  for 
the  Great  World,  per  Boston,  and  a  schooner 
trading  South,  that  belonged  to  Eli's  cousin. 

75 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

And  here  's  a  queer  thing.  The  day  I  left, 
Mick  went  into  the  tavern  and  called  for  a  glass 
of  whisky.  He  poured  out  a  snorter  and  bal 
anced  it  on  the  flat  of  his  thumb.  "Ladies  and 
gintlemen,"  says  he,  "ye  here  behold  th'  koind 
friend  that  led  Mick  Murphy— that  's  licked 
the  country— to  bang  a  bit  of  a  bye,  after  mis- 
namin'  a  dacent  woman."  Smash!  goes  the 
glass  on  the  floor.  "Tra-la-loo  to  you!"  says 
Mick,  flinging  the  barkeep'  a  half-dollar. 
"Keep  the  change,"  he  says.  "It  's  the  last 
cent  I  have,  and  the  last  you  '11  get  from  me." 

And  that  's  just  what  happened,  too.  He  's 
located  about  twenty  mile  over  yonder,  with  a 
good  factory  and  somewheres  between  ninety 
and  nine  thousand  Murphys  claiming  him  as 
their  start.  And  my  best  friend  is  old  Mick. 
He  cried  when  I  first  went  to  see  him.  I  re 
formed  him,  but  it  cost  me  my  home.  I  never 
knew,  either,  till  he  told  me  himself,  a  year  ago. 


76 


VI 

"i  'M  MAEY  SMITH" 

PLUNK,  plunk,  plunketty-plunk,  down  the 
pike,  me  and  Eli,  and  Dandy  Jim,  Eli's 
black  horse. 

I  '11  never  tell  you  how  I  felt.  It  was  the  first 
I  'd  ever  been  away  from  home.  All  the  re 
grets  I  had  was  eased  by  knowing  it  would  n't 
be  more  than  six  months  before  I  'd  come  back 
with  a  gunny-sack  full  of  hundred-dollar  bills, 
buy  Mr.  Jasper's  place  with  the  pillars  in 
front,  and  a  railroad,  and  pervade  things  in 
general  with  a  tone  of  pink  and  birds  singing. 

One  thing  about  being  a  boy  is  that  you  're 
sure  of  to-morrow,  anyhow. 

Well,  we  slid  along  behind  a  free-gaited 
horse,  in  an  easy  wagon,  over  good  roads,  in 

77 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

early  New  England  summer,  when  every 
breath  of  air  had  a  pretty  story  to  tell.  If  it 
had  n't  been  for  the  tight  vest  I  had  on,  I 
reckon  my  heart  would  have  bust  my  ribs  for 
joyfulness. 

Boston  scart  the  life  out  of  me.  I  had  no 
notion  there  was  that  many  folks  and  horses 

and  buildings  in  the  world.    We  pulled  for  the 

i 
schooner  right  away,  but  none  too  quick  for  me. 

I  never  liked  a  crowd.  A  man  understands  he 
don't  amount  to  much,  yet  don't  like  to  have 
the  fact  rubbed  in. 

Cap'n  Jesse  Conklin  owned  the  boat.  He 
had  a  mild  blue  eye,  a  splendid  line  of  cuss 
words,  a  body  as  big  as  mine,  and  a  pair  of  legs 
that  just  saved  him  from  running  aground. 
When  I  first  saw  him  I  thought  he  was  stand 
ing  in  a  hole.  Howsomever,  he  got  around 
mighty  lively  on  his  little  stumps,  and  he  could 
light  his  pipe  when  the  Matilda,  of  Boston,  was 
throwing  handsprings.  He  always  opened  his 
eyes  wide  and  said,  "Ha!"  like  he  was  per- 

78 


"I  'm  Mary  Smith" 

fectly  astonished  when  you  spoke  to  him. 
Then,  to  square  things,  you  was  really  per 
fectly  astonished  when  he  spoke  to  you. 

Eli  introduced  me.  ' '  Ha ! ' '  says  the  captain. 
"So  this  is  one  of  them  ripperty-splintered  and 
be  jiggered  young  thingermergummeries  that 
runs  away  from  hum,  heh?"  I  don't  wish  to 
be  understood  as  giving  the  captain's  exact 
words,  although  I  ain't  one  of  your  durn 
prudes,  neither. 

Eli  explained. 

' '  Ha  ! ' '  says  the  captain.  ' '  Is  that  so  ? 
Howjer  come  by  them  legs,  young  feller? 
You  '11  be  riggin'  a  set  of  stays  fur  them 
when  we  hit  the  stream.  I  Ve  seen  shorter 
and  thicker  things  than  them  growin'  on 
trellises." 

"Never  you  mind  about  his  legs,  you  old 
bladder-head,"  says  Eli,  cousinly.  "You  're 
to  take  the  boy  as  passenger." 

"I  am!"  says  Captain  Jesse,  jumping  back, 
mad  as  a  bumblebee.  "I  am;  that  's  me!  I 

79 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

don 't  own  this  boat  nor  nothin ' !  I  've  got  to 
be  told  what  I  'm  to  do,  I  have ! ' ' 

"Sure!"  says  Eli,  undisturbed. 

"Well,  all  right,"  says  the  captain,  calm  as 
anything.  "What  makes  you  so  hasty,  Eli! 
Does  he  pay  his  passage,  or  work  it?" 

"He  gives  you  five  dollars  in  hand,  and 
works  the  rest  of  it, ' '  says  Eli. 

The  cap'n  gave  a  horrible  grin,  showing  a 
set  of  teeth  like  a  small  horse. 

"And  won't  he  work  it!"  says  he,  rubbing 
his  hands  together.  "Dry  land  '11  do  for  him, 
two  weeks  out. ' ' 

"Yaaas, "  says  Eli.  "You  're  a  turble  per 
son,  you  are— you  'd  ought  to  been  a  pirate, 
Jess." 

Cap'n  Jesse  got  mad  again— he  was  more 
like  a  little  boy  than  anybody  of  his  weight  I 
ever  see.  He  come  up  to  Eli  and  shook  his 
finger  under  that  hawk-bill  of  a  nose. 

"I  don't  want  none  of  your  slack,  Eli!"  he 
says.  "You  Ve  tried  me  often"— here  he  got 
80 


"I  'm  Mary  Smith" 

impressive,  talking  very  slow— ''don't  you  try 
me  once  too  much!" 

Eli  grabbed  the  hand,  stuck  the  finger  in  his 
mouth,  and  bit  it. 

"Aaoow!"  yells  the  captain,  grabbing  his 
finger.  ' '  You  quit  your  f oolin ' ! " 

By  this  time  I  was  lost  entirely.  What  to 
make  of  the  proceedings  was  beyond  guessing. 
Boylike,  I  thought  men  always  acted  with  some 
big  idea  in  view,  but  the  next  minute  Eli  and 
Cap'n  Jesse  had  grabbed  holt  of  one  another 
and  was  scuffling  and  giggling  around  the  deck 
like  a  pair  of  kids.  Captain  Jess  was  stout 
about  the  shoulders ;  he  had  Eli  waving  in  the 
breeze  once,  but  at  last  Eli  gave  him  a  back  trip 
and  down  they  come.  Then  up  they  got ;  each 
cut  off  a  hunk  of  chewing  and  began  to  talk  as 
if  they  'd  acted  perfectly  reasonable.  Seems 
that  's  the  way  they  always  come  together. 

The  three  of  us  took  a  look  about,  the  boat. 
She  was  an  able,  fine  three-master,  the  pride  of 
Jesse's  soul ;  'most  as  big  as  a  ship. 

81 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

Them  were  the  days  when  most  folk  built 
deep  and  narrer,  but  Jesse  had  ideas  of  his 
own  when  he  laid  down  the  lines  of  the  Ma 
tilda,  of  Boston.  She  looked  bluff  and  heavy 
in  the  bows  and  her  bilges  turned  hard,  but  she 
walked  over  the  water,  and  don 't  you  forget  it. 
Moreover,  she  was  the  kindest  boat  in  a  seaway 
I  ever  boarded.  Old  Matilda  girl  would  heel 
just  so  far ;  after  that  the  worst  draft  that  ever 
whistled  would  n't  put  her  under  an  inch; 
she  'd  part  with  her  sticks  first.  Handy  boat, 
a  schooner,  too;  sensible  and  Yankeefied. 
Lord!  what  a  claw-and-messing  on  board  a 
square-rigger,  compared  to  it!  And  taking 
two  men  to  the  schooner's  one  at  that. 

The  Matilda  was  fitted  for  passengers.  She 
had  eight  nice  clean  cabins,  and  fine  quarters 
for  the  crew.  In  most  such  boats  you  can't 
more  'n  stand  up,  if  you  stretch  between  hair 
and  shoe-leather  the  way  I  do,  but  here  there 
was  head-room  a-plenty.  And  Uncle  Jesse  ate 
the  boys  well,  too.  Good  old  craft  and  good 
82 


"I  'm  Mary  Smith" 

old  boy  running  her.  Soon  's  you  realized  that 
all  his  spitting  and  swearing  and  roaring 
did  n't  amount  to  no  more  than  a  hearty  sneeze, 
you  got  along  with  Jesse  great,  if  you  was  fit 
to  get  along  with  anybody. 

We  took  aboard  four  passengers  that 
night,  one  of  'em  being  a  lady.  The  next 
morning  at  four  we  pulled  out  with  the  ebb 
tide. 

Before  we  got  into  the  open  water,  I  felt  such 
a  joy  boiling  inside  me  I  had  to  sing,  no  matter 
what  the  feelings  of  the  rest  were.  Oh!  Oh! 
The  blue,  bright  sky;  and  the  blue,  crinkly, 
good-smelling  water;  the  quantities  of  fresh 
air  around,  and  Matilda  picking  up  her  white 
skirts  and  skipping  for  Panama  !  Neither  man 
nor  money  will  ever  give  me  a  feeling  like  that 
again.  But  then,  — ah,  then!  And  there  's 
'most  always  a  then, — when  the  Matilda  tried 
to  spear  a  gull  with  her  bowsprit,  and,  shame 
faced  at  the  failure  above,  tried  to  harpoon 
some  little  fishy  with  the  same  weapon, — why, 

83 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

I  hope  I  '11  never  have  a  feeling  like  that  again, 
neither. 

I  hung  over  a  bunk  like  a  snarl  of  rope. 
Jesse  come  down  and  grinned  at  me.  I 
could  n  't  even  get  mad.  ' '  Tell  mother  I  died 
thinking  of  her,"  was  all  I  could  say. 

Now  that  was  noble  of  me.  Many  a  man  has 
cashed  his  checks  not  feeling  half  so  bad ;  but  if 
any  poor  soul  ever  regretted  a  good  deed,  I  did 
that  one.  That  last  message  to  my  mother 
seemed  to  remain  in  the  memory  of  our  ship's 
company,  long  after  I  was  willing  to  forget  it. 

For  two  solid  days  I  did  n't  live  inside  of 
myself,— mind  floated  around  in  space.  After 
that,  I  got  up,  ready  for  anything  in  the  line  of 
eating  they  had  on  board.  Jesse  brought  me 
a  smoked  herring  and  a  cup  of  coffee,— the  first 
coffee  I  ever  tasted,  mother  thinking  it  was  n't 
good  for  boys.  Within  ten  minutes  after  my 
meal,  William  De  La  Tour  Saunders  belonged 
to  himself  once  more.  Never  had  a  squirm  of 
seasickness  since.  For  the  first  week  I  was  n't 


"I  'm  Mary  Smith" 

quite  up  to  the  mark,  but  Jesse  told  me  to  take 
a  cup  of  sea-water  every  morning  before 
breakfast,  which  tuned  me  up  in  jig-time. 

I  saw  our  lady  passenger  when  she  come  up 
for  air.  A  girl  of  about  twenty,  supple  and 
balanced  as  a  tight-rope  walker;  you  thought 
she  was  slim  when  you  first  looked  at  her,  yet 
when  you  looked  the  second  time  you  could  n't 
prove  it.  What  a  beautiful  thing  is  a  set  of 
muscles  that  know  their  business !  Muscles 
that  meet  every  roll  of  a  boat,  or  whatever  it  is 
they  should  meet,  without  haste  and  without 
loss  of  time,— just  there,  when  they  should  be 
there !  Why,  to  see  that  girl  walk  twenty  feet 
on  the  schooner's  deck  was  a  picture  to  re 
member  for  the  rest  of  your  days.  Kid  that  I 
was,  I  noticed  there  was  n't  a  line  in  her  make 
up  that  said,  "Look  at  me."  Afterward  I 
learned  to  shake  my  head  at  graceful  ladies, 
but  I  feel  kindly  toward  them  still,  out  of  mem 
ory  of  that  first  girl.  My  mother  moved  beau 
tifully,  likewise  Mattie.  They  were  quiet, 

85 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

though ;  restful  women ;  this  one  was  all  spring 
and  ginger,— for  Heaven's  sake,  don't  think  I 
mean  prancy!  Nor  that  I  have  n't  met  a 
prancy  girl  or  two  who  was  all  right,  when  I 
say  that,— fat  and  jolly,  yellow-haired  girls,  to 
go  with  good  meals  and  a  romp,— but  this  My 
Lady  was  made  of  the  stuff  Uncle  Shakspere 
wrote.  She  was  clean  and  sweet  as  pine-woods 
after  rain,  but  full  of  fire,  sense,  and  foolish 
ness. 

I  remember  thinking,  ' l  When  this  girl  turns 
round  she  ain't  going  to  be  handsome  in  the 
face.  With  that  head  of  hair,  that  back,  and 
that  walk,  Providence  will  feel  square  on  the 
deal. ' '  And  when  she  did  turn  round  I  simply 
spread  my  hands,  mouth,  and  eyes,  and  looked 
at  her.  I  forgot  being  aboard  ship,  I  forgot 
where  I  was  going  and  why,  I  forgot  who  I  was 
and  everything  else ;  all  I  knew  was  that  a  kind 
of  human  I  never  believed  lived  was  walking 
toward  me. 

I  caught  one  glance  of  her  eyes ;  outside  their 

86 


"I  'm  Mary  Smith ': 

beauty  was  fun,  kindness,  and  a  desire  to  be 
friends;  from  that  minute  one  red-headed 
puppy-dog  found  something  to  live  for. 

My  devotion  had  nothing  to  do  with  the 
ordinary  love-affair.  As  for  marrying  her, 
no  such  idea  entered  my  loft.  I  had  no  jeal 
ousies.  All  I  wanted  was  for  her  to  be  near 
me,  to  be  a  friend  of  mine,  and  that  she  might 
be  on  hand  to  approve  if  I  did  something  sur 
prising.  I  wanted  the  privilege  of  her  hearing 
me  talk  about  myself;  and,  for  the  rest  of  it,  I 
could  sit  and  look  at  her  beauty,  the  same  as 
you  or  me  could  sit  and  listen  to  the  greatest 
music.  It  meant  more  than  just  good  looks ;  I 
would  n't  go  too  far  if  I  said  it  was  a  kind  of 
religion.  And  the  devil  take  my  soul  if  I 
forget  the  horse-sense  and  kindness  that  girl 
used  in  teaching  a  foot-loose  boy  what  a  differ 
ent  place  this  world  is,  from  what  he  'd  been 
like  to  think  it,  without  her.  A  young  feller's 
first  outpourings  toward  a  woman  has  more 
effect  on  him  than  even  his  mother's  years  of 

87 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

care.  He  kind  of  takes  mother  for  granted. 
The  other  woman  represents  his  own  endeav 
ors.  I  played  in  luck. 

We  were  introduced,  bang !  When  about  ten 
feet  away  from  me  she  took  her  hand  from  the 
rail  to  gather  in  one  end  of  a  shawl.  At  that 
minute  the  Matilda  saw  a  whale,  or  something, 
and  shied.  We  struck  the  mainmast  together, 
me  trying  to  hold  her  up.  She  said,  "Why, 
how  do  you  do?"  I  said  I  did  very  well,  and 
was  she  hurt  ?  She  said,  not  in  the  least,  thank 
you,  except  in  her  feelings,  at  being  so  clumsy. 
I  said,  if  she  was  clumsy,  why,  then,  why,  then— 
Now  I  was  a  little  bashful.  Nobody  could  be 
a  clodhopper  who  lived  with  my  mother,  and 
ordinarily  I  acted  quite  like  a  man  when  neces 
sary,  but  this  was  a  little  sudden.  I  could  n't 
reach  the  word  I  looked  for.  With  one  hand 
braced  against  the  mainmast,  her  hair  standing 
in  a  black  cloud  about  her  head,  the  color 
whipped  to  her  cheeks,  she  gave  me  a  flash 
from  the  corner  of  her  eye :  "I  'in  afraid  I  lose 
my  compliment, ' '  said  she. 


'•Tlir  Mti/ililn  s;i\v  ji   \vh;ilc,  oi-  MMiK'tliini,'.  iiml  sliird" 


"I  'm  Mary  Smith" 

Afterward  I  learned  she  had  liked  me  from 
the  first,  too,  and  was  afraid  I  might  n't  turn 
out  well.  Lucky  for  me  I  did  n't  try  to  show 
off! 

"I  would  n't  think  it  a  compliment  to  com 
pare  you  to  anything  on  earth!"  says  I,  mean 
ing  every  word  of  it. 

She  laughed  out,  hearty  as  a  boy.  ' l  Royal ! ' ' 
she  said,  and  held  out  her  hand. 

' '  And  the  hand  is  the  hand  of—  ? ' '  she  asked. 

"Bill  Saunders,"  said  I,  thinking  to  take  off 
my  hat. 

"I  sound  almost  as  honest  as  you,"  said  she. 
"I  'm  Mary  Smith." 

It  was  almost  a  shock  to  think  she  was  Mary 
Smith.  Since  then  it  would  be  a  shock  to  think 
of  her  as  Eulalie  Kosalinde  De  Montmorency. 
She  did  n't  need  it.  Plain  Mary  Smith  told  of 
what  was  beneath  her  loveliness,  — and,  I  'm 
forced  to  admit,  her  side-stepping  and  buck- 
jumping,  once  in  a  while.  Oh,  she  could  cut 
loose  for  fair,  if  stirred,  but  you  could  always 
remember  with  perfect  faith  Mary  Smith. 

91 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

It  was  n't  five  minutes  after  we  started  talk 
ing  that  Arthur  Saxton  came  along.  The  girl 
knew  him,  and  said  good  morning  in  that  civil, 
hold-off  fashion  a  good  woman  uses  to  a  man 
she  thinks  may  come  to  liking  her  too  well,  or 
that  she  may  come  to  like  too  well,  when  the 
facts  are  against  any  happy  result.  So  there 
was  three  of  us,  that  took  our  little  share  of 
what  followed,  gathered  together  early  in  the 
game. 

I  liked  Saxton  from  the  jump.  He  had  more 
faults  than  any  other  man  I  ever  seen.  He  was 
the  queerest,  contrariest  cuss,  and  yet  such  a 
gentleman;  he  had  such  a  way,  and  such  tal 
ents,  that  when  you  were  mad  enough  to  kill 
him,  you  could  n't  help  but  feel  glad  you  knew 
him  to  get  mad  at.  Somehow,  he  steered  clear 
of  meanness.  There  was  a  sort  of  nobility  in 
his  capers,  even  when  his  best  friends  would 
have  to  admit  they  did  n't  seem  to  be  of  a  size 
for  a  full-grown  man.  I  don't  know  how  to  ex 
press  myself.  He  often  played  a  poor  part; 
92 


"I  'm  Mary  Smith" 

but  darned  if  lie  did  n't  carry  it  off  well,  be 
cause  it  was  him ;  I  think  that  's  the  nearest  I 
can  come  to  it ;  good  or  bad,  large  or  small,  he 
was  always  Saxton,  never  attempting  to  put  on 
anything  different.  And  vain !  Well,  Heaven 
preserve  us !  And,  on  the  other  hand,  not  vain, 
neither.  'T  was  like  this.  Among  the  things 
he  did  well  enough  to  be  high-class  was  playing 
the  violin.  He  had  a  style  and  a  go  in  it  all  his 
own,  but  he  had  n  't  spent  the  time  to  learn  some 
of  the  stunts  that  go  with  the  trade.  All  the 
same,  his  natural  gifts  got  him  a  job  to  play  in 
concerts.  The  boss  of  the  affair  was  a  German, 
the  kind  of  a  man  who  had  a  soul  to  realize  that 
Saxton  made  music,  but  had  a  head  to  go  crazy 
over  his  slam-dashery.  Now,  Saxton  grew  ex 
cited  whilst  playing,  and  cut  loose  on  his  own 
hook,  letting  the  poor  perspiring  Dutchman  and 
the  rest  of  the  orchestra  keep  up  to  his  trail 
the  best  they  could.  At  these  opportunities  the 
Dutchman  went  home  in  a  cab,  frothing  at  the 
mouth.  You  see,  he  understood  it  was  great 

93 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

stuff,  as  far  as  Saxton  was  concerned,  so  he 
cussed  the  cab-driver  and  the  cab-horse,  and 
the  people  on  the  street,  being  an  honest  sort  of 
Dutchman,  if  limited ;  but,  also,  he  had  a  pride 
in  his  gang,  and  he  felt  entitled  to  a  show,  here 
and  there. 

At  last  there  come  a  big  occasion.  Saxton 
was  half  sick  and  loaded  up  on  champagne  and 
coffee  to  pull  through  the  evening.  I  have  his 
own  word  for  it,  the  mixture  done  wonders. 
Right  in  the  middle  of  a  piece  by  a  gentleman 
whose  name  I  don't  recall,  as  it  's  spelt  with 
all  the  tail-end  of  the  alphabet,  and  sounds  like 
rip-sawing  a  board,  Saxton  throws  dull  care 
away  and  wanders  into  regions  of  beautiful 
sounds  hitherto  unexplored.  Now  and  then 
the  tall  and  melancholy  gent  with  the  bull-fiddle 
would  scratch  out  a  note  or  two,  and  the  drum 
mer  got  in  a  lick  here  and  there,  while  the  flute 
man  toodle-oodled  around  to  head  off  Saxy; 
but,  on  the  whole,  that  orchestra  was  worse  lost 
than  so  many  West  Pointers  trying  to  catch  an 

94- 


"I  'm  Mary  Smith" 

Apache  who  am 't  longing  for  home.  They  sat 
and  let  old  Saxton  ramp  by  himself,  laying  low 
to  hit  her  up  strong  on  the  last  note.  And  they 
did,— but  they  misguessed  the  note.  Saxton 
ground  his  teeth  yet,  recalling  the  finish.  "It 
was  my  best,"  said  he.  "I  was  inspired  that 
night,— and  then,  for  that  assortment  of  garlic 
and  sausage  to  smash  me !" 

Well,  he  heaved  his  fiddle  at  the  poor  leader, 
and  called  him  a  barrel  of  sauerkraut  afloat  on 
a  sea  of  beer,  right  before  the  whole  audience. 
It  is  perhaps  unnecessary  to  state  that  he  and 
the  orchestra  parted  company.  Now  he  was 
off  for  Panama,— quit  fiddling  forever.  Done 
with  it.  Going  to  take  up  a  man's  work,  he 
said.  He  did  n't  mention  the  variety,  but 
rolled  out  the  statement  as  if  it  was  a  joy.  In 
the  meantime,  he  was  painting  pictures  and 
writing  a  novel.  The  pictures  never  got  fin 
ished,  and  the  novel  has  n  't  come  out,  but  those 
things  did  n't  make  him  any  less  entertaining; 
and,  as  usual,  what  did  get  done  of  them  was 

95 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

almighty  well  done,  and  done  in  a  way  only 
Arthur  Saxton  could  do.  I  never  see  such  a 
man  to  stamp  himself  on  anything  he  put  his 
hand  to.  And  when  he  was  working,  if  you 
said  the  least  thing  against  the  job,  he  wanted 
trouble  with  you ;  but  the  next  day  he  'd  smoke 
his  pipe  and  tear  it  apart  worse  than  you  pos 
sibly  could.  That  was  Saxy :  first  crack,  spoiled 
kid;  second  thought,  clear-headed  man. 

The  three  of  us,  Mary  and  him  and  me, 
walked  the  deck  day  after  day,  talking  of 
everything,  from  what  fine  weather  it  was  to  re 
ligion.  Once  Saxton  called  our  attention  to  the 
wind  in  'the  rigging.  Afterward  I  knew  it 
sounded  like  Injun  chants  and  coyotes  howling, 
but  Saxton  asked  if  we  did  n't  notice  how  much 
it  was  like  the  songs  the  children  sing  in  play. 
He  said  those  songs  must  have  been  handed 
down  from  far-off  days— when  we  whites  were 
savages,  hopping  around  hollering  hye-ee  yah, 
hye-ee  yah,  and  calling  on  the  ladies,  dressed 
in  a  streak  of  red  paint.  I  don't  know 

96 


"I  'm  Mary  Smith v 

about  that,  though.  No  child  in  this  world 
can  be  as  mournful  enjoying  himself  as  a 
cow-puncher  with  all  night  before  him  and 
seven  hundred  verses  to  get  through ;  there  's 
puncher  songs  would  make  a  strong  man  curl 
up  and  die. 

Now,  says  Saxton,  what  makes  children  and 
savages,  who  have  a  clear  field  to  amuse  them 
selves  as  they  see  fit,  pick,  with  deliberate 
choice,  such  melancholy  tunes!  And  he  said  it 
was  because  nature  always  hit  on  that;  wind  in 
rigging,  wind  in  trees,  waterfalls,  the  far-off 
hum  of  the  city,  all  sad,  sad. 

I  asked  him,  if  it  was  natural,  where  did  we 
get  the  idea  it  was  sad?  It  struck  me  that  if  a 
thing  was  natural,  it  was  natural,  not  sad,  nor 
nothin'  else. 

Pie  said,  because  nature  was  sad.  Mary 
said,  no  such  a  thing;  nature  was  n't  sad- 
there  were  the  flowers  and  green  fields,  also 
natural,  and  pleasant  and  cheerful  to  the  eye; 
there  was  more  blue  sky  than  gray,  and  as  for 

97 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

the  savage  being  sad,  why,  that  might  be,  but 
it  was  n't  sad  to  think  that  men  were  working 
out  of  savagery  into  civilization. 

So  then  Saxton  gave  civilization  one  for  its 
Ma,  and  talk  brisked  up.  Civilization  stood  for 
Dutchmen  that  ran  orchestras  to  Saxton,  and 
he  did  n't  spare  her  feelings  none.  I  was  glad 
Civvy,  old  girl,  was  no  friend  of  mine.  Accord 
ing  to  him,  of  all  the  mistakes  so  foolish  that  to 
think  of  bettering  it  was  like  building  a  hole 
with  no  rim  around  it,  civilization  stood  first 
and  foremost. 

Mary  got  red  in  the  face  and  her  eyes  shone. 
They  had  it  up  one  side  and  down  the  other, 
forgetting  me  entirely.  Finally  Saxton  told 
her  she  was  n't  talking  honestly,  that  she  hated 
civilization  worse  than  he  did,  and  it  was  plumb 
hypocrisy  for  her  to  set  up  in  its  defense; 
whereupon  she  replied  that  she  had  n't  wasted 
her  time  and  talents,  anyhow;  that  she  was  n't 
throwing  things  up  the  first  little  obstacle  that 
came  in  the  way.  Which  did  n  't  seem  to  be  just 

98 


"I  'm  Mary  Smith" 

the  answer  one  might  expect  to  the  charge,  but 
finished  Saxton  plenty. 

He  drew  himself  up  proud.  "If  every  topic 
had  to  turn  to  personalities—  '  said  he. 

"I  did  n't  begin  the  personalities,"  said 
Mary.  "You  called  me  a  fraud." 

"I  never  did!"  cries  Saxton.  "I  said  you 
were  defending  a  cause  you  did  n't  believe 
in!" 

"And  that  is  n't  a  fraud?  I  admire  your 
distinctions." 

Saxton  chewed  his  mustache  and  swallowed, 
lie  made  her  a  low  bow  and  said,  in  a  tone  of 
voice  to  flatten  her  out :  "I  am  glad  Miss  Smith 
finds  something  admirable  in  me!" 

Mary's  lip  curled  hard  and  contemptuous. 
It  icas  kiddish. 

"There  'd  be  plenty  in  you  to  admire  if  you 
let  it  have  liberty,"  she  said.  "The  trouble  is 
that  your  follies  seem  worth  it,  to  you." 

"Follies!  You  let  me  off  lightly.  Why  not 
absurdities,  idiocies  ? ' ' 

99 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

1 '  Pick  your  name, ' '  she  said,  throwing  away 
her  interest  with  a  sweep  of  her  hand. 

''There  is  one  folly  you  give  me  great  cause 
to  regret,"  he  answered  her,  his  manhood  com 
ing  back  to  him,  "but  yet  I  never  do." 

"Oh!"  she  jeered  at  him.  "You  should  re 
nounce  them  all.  If  I  understand  your  mean 
ing,  that  is  the  least  excusable— you  have  some 
reason  for  the  others. ' ' 

Later  I  understood  the  cruelty  of  that 
speech.  It  was  cruel  to  be  kind,  but  it  was 
mighty  cruel  and  a  doubtful  kindness.  It  woke 
old  Saxton  up.  He  took  a  breath  and  shook. 
He  put  a  hand  on  her  shoulder,  standing 
straight  and  tall— a  handsome,  slim  critter,  if 
ever  there  lived  one. 

"Listen !"  he  said,  quiet,  but  all  of  him  in  it. 
"You  shall  care  for  me,  just  as  I  am— you  un 
derstand?  A  fool,  and  a  this,  and  a  that— but 
you  shall  care." 

A  look  in  her  eyes— the  kincj  of  defy  that 
grows  of  being  scart— showed  his  talk  was  n't 
all  air. 

IOO 


"I  'm  Mary  Smith" 

But  it  went  in  a  second,  and  she  whirled  on 
him.  "Why  don't  you  advertise  your  inten 
tions!"  she  demanded.  "If  I  had  an  idea  I 
should  be  so  persecuted— 

"Don't  say  persecuted,  little  girl,"  he  an 
swered  her  softly.  "Let  's  be  friends  the  rest 
of  the  trip.  I  '11  trouble  you  no  more,— by 
sea,"  he  finished,  smiling. 

She  gripped  the  rail  and  looked  out  over  the 
waters.  Again  her  eyes  turned  to  him  for  a 
second.  He  was  worth  it.  That  dark,  long 
face  of  his,  set  off  with  his  red  neckerchief, 
made  something  for  any  woman  to  look  at. 
And  we  're  not  always  so  darned  fond  of  rea 
sonable  people  as  we  make  out. 

"If  only—  '  she  began,  then  bit  back  what 
ever  it  was.  "Well,  as  you  say,"  she  wound 
up,  "let  us  be  friends.  Is  n't  it  foolish  for  us 
to  quarrel  so,  Will?"  she  asked,  turning  to  me. 
"I  think  you  must  feel  we  're  both  ridiculous." 

"I  don't  care  whether  you  are  or  not,"  I 
said.  ' ' I  like  you  both. ' ' 

Saxton  looked  pleased  'way  back  in  his  dark 
IOI 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

eyes.  "That  's  the  boy  for  my  money!"  he 
said.  And  then  we  three  began  to  laugh. 

"It  's  all  too  beautiful  to  quarrel  in,"  he 
said,  waving  an  arm  around.  "To  feel  sor 
rowful  on  such  a  day,  savage  or  civilized,  really 
is  ridiculous." 

She  could  n't  help  giving  him  one  last  jab,— 
I  make  a  guess  he  turned  happy  too  soon  to 
please  her.  If  she  did  n't  like  him,  she  liked 
somebody  who  so  much  resembled  him  that  she 
wanted  to  have  him  around  to  remind  her. 

"Mr.  Saxton's  sorrows  are  soon  healed," 
she  said.  "That  's  a  valuable  disposition." 

"I  take  that  as  friendly,  because  I  must," 
said  he,  smiling  in  a  way,  as  with  the  other 
things  he  did,  that  was  beautiful  in  a  fashion 
of  its  own.  She  tried  to  buck  against  it,  to  keep 
sneering;  but  something  so  young  and  joyful 
was  in  his  face,  she  could  n't  help  smiling  back 
at  him.  So  we  walked  the  deck  and  talked 
about  everything  in  the  best  of  humors. 

IO2 


VII 

"SAVE  ME,  ARTHUR!" 

THE  first  part  of  the  Matilda's  trip  slid  by, 
day  after  day,  like  a  happy  dream. 
We  had  weather  that  could  n't  be  bettered; 
days  of  sunlight  and  pretty  sailing  breezes; 
nights  picked  out  of  heaven.  The  moon  was 
in  her  glory.  I  like  high  land  better  than  I  do 
the  ocean,  but  few  sights  can  beat  a  full  moon 
swelling  over  the  glitter  of  water.  There  's 
also  a  snugness,  a  cozy,  contented  feeling, 
aboard  a  small  boat,  that  you  can't  get  else 
where,  except  in  a  prairie  camp.  I  suppose 
it  's  the  contrast  between  so  much  space  of  sky 
and  land  or  water,  where  people  are  not,  and 
the  little  spot  where  they  are,  that  makes  your 
partners  rise  in  value. 

103 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

Of  course,  the  fact  that  it  was  rny  first  cut 
away  puts  a  gilt  edge  on  all  that  time,  yet  one 
other  thing,  a  new  thing,  that  made  all  my  life 
different  for  me,  must  get  its  credit.  That  was 
music,— good  music.  Back  home  they  were  n't 
much  in  the  musical  line.  I  think  I  can  remem 
ber  when  mother  used  to  play  the  piano  some, 
but  her  life  soon  jarred  all  that  out  of  her.  Bar 
here  and  there  a  man  with  a  mouth-organ  or  a 
concertina,  and  a  fiddler  to  do  dance-tunes,  the 
only  thing  that  stood  for  music  to  me  was  the 
singing  in  father's  church.  I  have  since 
thought  that  anybody  who  could  stand  that 
once  a  week  was  certainly  a  good  Christian.  I 
remember  one  Sunday  the  preacher  told  us 
about  heaven,  and  how  it  was  a  steady  line  of 
harps  and  hymn-tunes.  I  put  in  the  rest  of 
that  Sunday  bewildered.  I  did  n't  want  to  go 
to  hell,  and  after  that  description  of  heaven  I 
was  n't  anxious  to  go  there,  neither.  Looked 
like  the  hereafter  was  dark  and  uncertain. 

But  when  I  first  heard  Saxton,  with  his  fid- 
104 


"Save  me,  Arthur!" 

die;  Barbado  Joe,  the  nigger  cook,  with  the 
guitar;  and  Mary  singing,  my  soul  just  laid  on 
its  back  and  purred.  I  was  standing  at  the  rail, 
thinking,  kind  of  misty  kid-fashion,  one  moon 
lit  night,  when  there  came  a  ripple  of  little 
notes  from  the  guitar,  with  three  wind-up 
chords  like  spring  water  in  the  desert.  Then 
old  Sax's  fiddle  'way,  'way  up ;  so  light,  so  deli 
cate,  so  sweet  and  pretty  that  shivers  ran  down 
my  back.  I  stiffened  like  a  pointer-pup  first 
smelling  game.  "Here  's  something,"  I 
thought,  "something  that  's  me,  all  right,  but 
I  don't  understand  yet."  And  then,  Mary's 
voice  rose  gorgeous  out  of  the  bigness  of  sky 
and  moonlight  and  water;  it  filled  the  whole 
empty  world,  without  an  effort.  Me  and  the 
moon  and  the  waves  stopped  dead  and  listened. 
Even  the  Matilda  trod  the  water  gently. 

I  turned  and  looked  at  Mary.  There  's  no 
way  for  me  to  tell  you  what  a  picture  she  made. 
If  I  say  she  was  beautiful,  you  '11  think  of  some 
woman  you  know,  and  that  's  wrong,  for  there 

105 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

never  was  another  like  Mary.  She  was  always 
beautiful,  but  never  else  had  quite  the  touch  as 
when  lost  in  her  singing.  Man,  she  was  Para 
dise  itself,  and  when  she  opened  her  lips  and 
sang,  you  entered  the  gates  thereof. 

Of  course,  everybody  's  heard  good  singing, 
the  same  as  everybody  's  seen  handsome  faces, 
but  once  in  a  while  you  strike  a  face  or  a  voice 
that  's  beyond  all  guessing.  You  'd  never  be 
lieved  it,  if  you  had  n't  seen  or  heard  it. 

She  sang  as  easily  as  you  think,— opened  her 
lips  and  it  rolled  out.  And,  in  spite  of  power 
that  could  ring  the  air  for  miles  and  never 
seem  loud,  a  deep  something  trembled  under 
neath  that  was  the  very  soul  of  pity  and  wo- 
mankindness,  and  another  little  something 
floated  high  and  joyful  above  it  like  the  laugh 
of  a  child.  Yes,  sir.  That  voice  was  food, 
drink,  and  clean  blankets.  When  she  stopped, 
I  thought  I  never  wanted  to  hear  a  sound  again. 
But  I  did  n  't  know  the  limit  of  old  Sax.  With 
her  voice  quivering  in  his  heart,  he  grabbed  up 
1 06 


"Save  me,  Arthur! ': 

his  wooden  box  and  made  a  miracle.  Sure,  it 
was  different;  but  just  as  sure  he  tore  a  hole 
in  you.  His  eyes  were  on  Mary,  backing  the 
story  the  violin  was  telling.  She  was  giv 
ing  way,  too.  Her  eyes  would  meet  his,  as 
if  she  could  n't  help  herself.  He  'd  promised 
not  to  speak,  but  that  did  n't  stop  the  old 
fiddle  from  making  out  the  prettiest  kind  of 
case. 

She  sat  with  her  chin  in  her  hand,  breathing 
deep.  The  violin  would  give  a  tug  at  her,  and, 
as  I  say,  her  eyes  would  turn  to  Sax,  and  then 
she  'd  force  them  away  again,  over  the  water, 
slowly  down  to  the  deck  once  more.  She  was 
frightened.  I  don't  blame  her,  for  Sax  was 
out  of  himself.  He  towered  there  in  the  moon 
light  making  those  inhumanly  beautiful  sounds, 
his  face  burning  white  and  his  eyes  burning 
black,  fire  clean  through,  fire  in  every  soople 
muscle,  fire  pulsing  out  of  every  heave  of  his 
shoulders,  one  handsome  and  scary  figure. 
There  was  something  so  out-and-out  wild  in 
ICQ 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

him,  I  swear  lie  looked  as  if  he  could  call  up 
devils  from  the  sea. 

Well,  when  a  man  does  get  beyond  the  ordi 
nary  he  scares  the  rest  of  the  tribe.  If  two  fel 
lows  start  to  fight,  the  bystanders  will  try  to 
separate  them.  It  's  kind  of  instinct— I  Ve 
done  it  many  a  time  myself,  when  it  would  have 
been  better  to  let  the  boys  whack  'emselves 
good-natured  instead  of  keeping  the  grudge 
sour  on  their  stomachs.  Anyway,  I  can't 
blame  Mary  for  feeling  leery  of  Sax  when  I 
confess  that  he  put  creeps  in  my  spine.  He 
seemed  to  grow  till  he  filled  the  bow  of  the 
boat;  the  fiddle  sung  in  my  ears  till  I  could  n't 
think  straight;  heavy  medicine  in  it,  you  bet. 
Mary  got  whiter  and  whiter.  I  saw  her  con 
stantly  wetting  her  lips,  and  her  hand  went  to 
her  heart.  The  whole  night  was  changed.  The 
air  was  full  of  war  and  uneasiness.  I  wish  to 
Heaven  I  knew  how  it  might  have  ended,  if  no 
thing  interrupted,  because  Saxton  was  doing 
magic.  It  was  the  queerest  feeling  I  ever  had. 
IIO 


"Save  me,  Arthur!  " 

What  Mary 's  feelings  were  I  'd  give  something 
to  know,  but  just  when  things  were  the  tightest 
old  Jesse  come  up  and  pulled  my  sleeve. 

"Get  the  girl  below  quiet,"  he  says.  "Hell 
will  be  loose  in  a  minute." 

I  stared  at  him.  Coming  on  top  of  my  queer 
sensations,  it  gummed  my  works.  Jesse 
pointed  to  the  sou 'east. 

A  cloud  was  flying  north,  the  center  of  it 
black,  but  wisps  and  streamers  flew  out  white 
in  the  moonlight  like  steam  from  an  explosion. 
To  the  north  of  it  lay  another  storm,  huge  and 
heavy,  black  as  death,  except  where  lightning 
sprayed  through  it. 

"Wind,  Jesse?"  I  says. 

' '  The  last  time  I  see  a  thing  like  that,  boy, ' ' 
he  says,  "I  made  land  three  days  later,  aboard 
a  hencoop— the  only  one  of  a  hull  ship's  com 
pany.  Get  that  girl  below. ' ' 

I  thought  quick,  as  he  walked  away.  The 
fiddle  had  stopped.  A  wicked  silence  lay  on 
everything.  Old  man  Fear  put  his  cold  feet  on 
III 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

me.  I  looked  again  at  the  mass  to  s'utherd.  It 
boiled  and  turned  and  twisted.  Big  gusts  of 
black  and  white  shot  crazily  out  to  nowhere— 
she  was  climbing !  Then  I  looked  at  the  group. 
Mary  sat  white  and  still.  Sax  stood  behind 
her,  his  fiddle  by  his  side,  holding  the  bow  like 
a  sword.  He  was  white  and  still,  too,  and  look 
ing  up  to  where  the  moon  was  going  out.  Their 
backs  were  turned  to  the  devilry  that  threat 
ened  us. 

I  stepped  forward,— easy  as  possible,  and 
spoke  to  her. 

"You  're  not  looking  well,  Mary,"  I  said. 
"Had  n't  you  better  go  down?" 

That  was  before  my  poker  days.  Playing 
a  four-flush  gives  a  man  control  of  his  face 
and  voice.  She  heard  what  I  wanted  to  hide 
at  once,  being  naturally  sharp  as  a  needle  and 
tuned  high  that  night. 

"What  's  the  matter?"  says  she. 

'  *  Matter  ? ' '  says  I,  laughing  gaily.  ' '  Why,  I 
don't  want  to  see  you  sick— come  along  like  a 
good  girl." 

112 


"Save  me,  Arthur!  " 

' '  Tell  me  why  I  should,  and  I  will, ' '  she  says. 
Well,  what  was  the  use?  Had  n't  she  the  right 
to  know!  When  old  Jesse  said  trouble  was 
turning  the  corner,  you  could  expect  the  knock 
on  the  door.  He  had  the  reputation  of  being 
the  most  fearless  as  well  as  the  most  careful 
skipper  in  the  coast  trade.  He  never  took  a 
chance,  if  there  was  nothing  in  it,  and  he  'd 
take  'em  all,  if  there  was. 

Sax  bent  to  us.  "What  's  up?"  says  he.  I 
did  n't  say  a  word— pointed  behind  him.  He 
looked  for  a  full  rive  seconds. 

"Tornado,  by  God!"  he  says  in  a  sort  of 
savage  whisper. 

He  took  the  violin  and  bow  in  those  thin 
strong  hands  of  his  and  crumpled  'em  up,  and 
threw  the  pieces  overboard.  I  '11  swear  he  felt 
what  I  did— that  he  had  called  up  a  devil  from 
the  sea. 

Then  he  put  a  hand  on  Mary's  shoulder. 
"Go  below,  sweetheart,"  he  said. 

"But  you  '11  call  me— you  '11  let  me—  '  she 
says,  an  agony  in  her  eyes. 

JI3 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

* '  You  ought  to  know  that  I  will  be  with  you, 
if  there  's  no  need  of  me  here, ' '  he  said.  We 
stood  stock-still  for  a  minute.  It  had  come 
with  such  a  stunning  bang. 

"There  is  great  danger,  Mary,"  said  Sax- 
ton.  "But  you  '11  be  brave,  my  dear?" 

"I  will,  Arthur,"  she  answered.  Then  her 
eyes  filled  with  panic  and  she  caught  him 
around  the  neck.  "Save  me,  Arthur!  Save 
me ! ' '  she  cried.  i i  Oh,  I  don 't  want  to  die ! ' ' 

Never  in  his  life  had  Arthur  Saxton  stood  up 
more  of  a  man  and  gentleman.  He  put  his 
hand  on  her  head  and  looked  courage  into  her. 
"Nor  do  I  want  to  die  while  there  's  a  chance 
of  you,"  he  said.  "Now  you  '11  believe  and 
trust  me,  and  go  with  Will ! ' ' 

I  think  he  kissed  her— I  don't  remember. 
That  hell  aloft  was  sudsing  fast  to  us,  and  I 
was  dancing  inside  to  do  something  beside  wait 
for  a  drowning.  Anyhow,  old  Jesse's  voice 
ripped  out  ferocious ;  there  was  a  rattle  of 
blocks,  and  I  put  Mary  below  at  the  bottom  of 
114. 


"Save  me,  Arthur!  " 

the  step,  picked  up  a  lantern  for  her,  told  her 
we  'd  watch  out  more  for  her  than  we  would 
for  ourselves,  and  seeing  how  utterly  God 
forsaken  the  poor  girl  looked,  I  kissed  her, 
too. 

"Don't  leave  me,  Will!  Oh,  don't!"  she 
cried ;  "  I  can 't  stand  it ! " 

"I  must,"  I  pleaded.  "Mary,  think!  I  may 
be  some  use." 

She  gripped  herself.  "That  is  so.  Go, 
Will." 

It  hurt  to  go.  The  lantern  made  a  dim  light 
in  which  her  face  half  showed.  The  shadows 
shifted  black,  here  and  there.  From  above 
came  a  grinding,  shattering  sort  of  roar,  like 
a  train  crossing  a  bridge.  It  was  horrible  to 
leave  a  woman  alone  to  face  it.  But  then  came 
a  scurry  and  trampling  of  feet  on  deck;  yells 
and  orders.  That  was  my  place. 

"Good-by!  God  save  you!"  I  said,  caught 
her  hand  for  a  good-by,  and  jumped  up  the 
stair. 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

I  was  just  in  time.  They  slammed  the  hatch 
down  almost  on  my  heels. 

"Mary's  there!"  I  screamed  in  Jesse's  ear. 

"It  's  her  only  chance !"  he  roared  back. 

On  deck  that  machinery  roar  drowned  every 
thing.  It  rattled  the  bones  in  your  body.  The 
deck  sung  to  it.  You  felt  the  humming  on  your 
feet.  It  dumbed  and  tortured  you  at  the  same 
time,  like  a  fever-dream.  You  could  n't  think 
for  it,  and  your  temper  was  spoiled  entirely. 

Lightning !  My  God !  It  was  zippitty-flash- 
flash-flash,  so  fast  and  fearful  that  the  whole 
world  jumped  out  into  broad  day  and  back  a 
hundred  times  a  minute.  Heaven  send  I  '11 
never  see  another  such  sight  as  the  sea  those 
flashes  showed.  Under  the  spout  it  was  as  if 
somebody  had  run  a  club  into  a  snake-hole. 
You  got  it,  to  the  least  crinkle,  in  the  lightning 
blasts.  There  were  walls  of  water  like  Niagara 
Falls,  jumbled  up,  falling,  smashing  together. 
If  it  hit  us  square  we  'd  vanish. 

Saxton  stood  near  me.    He  passed  me  a  rope 

116 


"Save  me,  Arthur!  " 

and  signed  for  me  to  make  myself  fast.  I 
could  n't  do  it.  I  must  be  free.  I  thought  of 
Mary,  below,  and  shook.  What  must  she  feel? 
We  could  n't  get  down  to  her  now,  and  that 
made  me  sick.  Saxton  fastened  the  rope  around 
me.  He  put  his  mouth  to  my  ear  and  shouted, 
' '  You  never  could  hold  without  it ! " 

I  let  him  do  what  he  liked.  All  desire  to  do 
anything  myself,  one  way  or  the  other,  was 
rattled  out  of  me. 

"How  is  she?"  he  shrieked  again.  I  could 
just  hear  him  at  a  one-inch  range. 

"All  right,"!  said. 

"Make  a  little  prayer  to  Himmel,"  he  says, 
"for  here  it  comes  !" 

Here  it  come.  Something  that  looked  like 
the  Atlantic  up-ended  loomed  over  the  bows. 
The  wind  struck  me  flat  on  my  back,  in  one 
grand  crash  of  snapping  wood,  roaring  water, 
thunder,  and  the  fall  of  the  pillars  of  the  world. 
The  ocean  swept  over  me,  yet  I  rose  high  in 
the  air.  I  felt  that  the  ^latilda  was  turning  a 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

back  somersault.  The  rope  nearly  cut  me  in 
half.  Just  when  my  lungs  were  pumping  so 
I  could  n't  hold  my  breath  a  heart-beat  longer, 
the  wind  suddenly  cut  over  my  face.  Man! 
It  hit  like  a  fire-engine  stream !  I  turned  and 
swallowed  some  of  it  before  we  went  down 
into  the  deep  again.  After  that,  it  was  plain 
disorderly  conduct.  Part  of  the  time  I  was 
playing  at  home,  a  little  boy  again,  and  part 
of  the  time  I  was  having  a  hard  time  trying  to 
sleep  in  strange  lands.  But  the  next  thing  I 
can  swear  to  is  that  the  moon  was  shining,  and 
the  Matilda  jumping  like  a  horse.  In  spite  of 
the  aches  and  pains  all  over  me,  I  just  lay  still 
for  a  minute  and  let  it  soak  in  that  I  was  still 
on  board  this  pretty  good  old  world.  Next,  I 
thought  of  Mary  and  the  rest  of  them  and 
scrambled  to  my  feet.  I  was  dizzy— a  three- 
inch  cut  across  the  top  of  my  head  gave  reason 
enough  for  that,  let  alone  the  rest  of  the  racket 
—and  one  eye  was  swelled  shut.  Otherwise, 
barring  a  sprained  arm,  a  raw  circle  around 

118 


"Save  me,  Arthur!  " 

me  where  the  rope  cut,  a  black-and-blue  spot 
the  size  of  a  ham  on  my  right  leg,  and  all  the 
skin  off  my  knuckles,  I  was  the  same  person. 

Saxton  got  himself  up.  We  stared  at  each 
other. 

"Hello!"  says  he. 

"Hello!"  says  I. 

"Well,  what  the  devil  are  you  doing  alive?" 
he  says.  He  meant  it,  too.  It  seemed  to  as 
tonish  him  greatly.  This  made  me  mad. 

' '  Well,  I  guess  I  have  a  right  to, "  I  says.  At 
this  we  both  laughed  very  hard.  So  hard 
I  could  n't  stop,  till  he  grabbed  me  by  the 
arm. 

1 '  Mary ! "  he  says. 

We  both  tried  to  cast  our  moorings.  The 
knots  were  jammed  beyond  fingers  and  teeth. 
He  took  out  a  knife  and  we  cut  loose.  On  the 
way  to  the  hatch  we  come  across  Jesse  sitting 
up  straight,  staring  out  to  sea.  He  put  his 
hand  to  his  head  and  put  it  down  again,  look 
ing  at  his  fingers.  What  he  found  so  interest- 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

ing  in  the  fingers  I  don 't  know,  but  he  could  n  't 
take  his  eyes  off  of  them. 

"Hurt,  Jesse?"  we  asked  him. 

He  turned  a  face  like  a  child 's  to  us.  * '  My, ' ' 
he  says,  "was  n't  it  wet!" 

' '  Come  on ! "  says  Sax ;  "  he  's  all  right ! ' ' 

We  pulled  the  scuttle  off  by  main  strength. 

' '  Mary ! "  we  called.    ' '  Mary ! ' ' 

"Yes!"  she  answered.  The  relief  was  so 
sweet  my  knees  weakened.  She  came  to  the 
stair  and  looked  up.  Durned  if  the  old  lantern 
was  n't  burning.  That  knocked  me.  I  re 
membered  lighting  that  lantern  several  hun 
dred  years  ago,  and  here  it  was,  still  burning ! 

"Are  you  hurt!"  said  Saxton. 

"Not— no,  not  much,"  she  answered.  "But 
nearly  dead  from  fright— is  it  over?" 

"All  over,  thank  God!"  says  Sax.  "We  only 
caught  the  edge  of  it,  or—  The  moon  is  shin 
ing  now.  There  's  a  heavy  sea  still,  but  that  's 
harmless  if  the  boat  is  n't  strained— do  you 
want  us  to  stay  with  you  ? ' ' 

I2O 


"Save  me,  Arthur!  " 

She  looked  up  and  laughed— a  great  deal 
nearer  being  sensible  than  either  Sax  or  me. 

"  If  I  could  stand  the  other,  I  can  stand  this 
alone— where  's  your  promise,  Arthur?  You 
never  came  near  me. ' ' 

He  took  this  very  seriously.  ''Why,  Mary," 
he  began,  ' '  do  you  think  I  would  have  left  you 
if  I  could  have  helped  it!  They  closed  the 
hatch-" 

"Come  along, "  I  said.    "She  's  joking. " 

He  turned  and  looked  at  me.  "  Is  she!  "  he 
asked,  as  earnest  as  if  his  life  hung  on  it.  Not 
the  least  strange  memory  of  that  night  is  when 
Arthur  Saxton  turned  and  said, 1 1  Is  she ! ' ' 

"Sure!"  I  replied.  "Come— some  of  the 
boys  may  be  badly  hurt. ' ' 

We  pulled  through  that  uproar  surprisingly 
good.  Of  course,  every  man-jack  of  us  had 
lumps  and  welts  and  cuts,  and  there  were  some 
bones  broken.  Saxton  was  slapped  down  with 
such  force  that  the  flat  of  his  hand  was  one  big 
blister  where  it  hit  the  deck,  and  the  whole  line 

12  I 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

of  his  forearm  was  a  bruise— but  that  saved 
his  face.  One  passenger  drew  a  bad  ankle, 
jammed  in  the  wreckage.  The  worst  hurt  was 
Jimmy  Hixley,  a  sailor ;  a  block  hit  him  in  the 
ribs— probably  when  the  mainmast  went— and 
caved  him  for  six  inches. 

The  actual  twister  had  only  hit  one  third  of 
us,  from  where  the  mainmast  stood,  aft.  That 
stick  was  pulled  out  by  the  roots— clean. 
Standing  rigging  and  all.  Good  new  stuff  at 
that.  Some  of  the  stays  came  out  at  the  eyes 
and  some  of  'em  snapped.  One  sailor  picked 
a  nasty  hurt  out  of  it.  The  stays  were  steel 
cable,  and  when  one  parted  it  curled  back  quick, 
the  sharp  ends  of  the  broken  wires  clawing  his 
leg. 

Nobody  knows  the  force  of  the  wind  in  that 
part  of  the  boat.  Had  there  been  a  man  there, 
no  rope  could  hold  him  from  being  blown  over 
board  ;  but,  luckily,  we  were  all  forward. 

The  rails  were  cut  clean  as  an  ax  stroke. 
Nothing  was  left  but  the  wheel,  and  the  deck 

122 


"Save  me,  Arthur!  " 

was  lifted  in  places  as  if  there  'd  been  an  ex 
plosion  below. 

However,  we  were  n't  in  the  humor  to  kick 
over  trifles.  We  shook  hands  all  around  and 
took  a  man's-sized  swig  of  whisky  apiece,  then 
started  to  put  things  shipshape. 

Jesse  had  an  extra  spar  and  a  bit  of  sail  that 
we  rigged  as  a  jigger,  and  though  the  Matilda 
did  n't  foot  it  as  pretty  as  before,  we  had  a 
fair  wind  nearly  all  the  rest  of  the  trip,  making 
Panama  in  two  weeks,  without  another  acci 
dent. 


123 


VIII 

AKCHIE  OUT  OF  ASPINWALL 

THE  thing  I  recall  clearest,  when  we 
dropped  anchor  at  Aspinwall,  was  a 
small  boat  putting  off  to  us,  and  a  curly  yellow 
head  suddenly  popping  up  over  the  rail,  fol 
lowed  by  the  rest  of  a  six-foot  whole  man. 
That  was  Jimmy  Holton,  nay  future  boss. 

Him  and  Jesse  swore  how  glad  they  was  to 
see  each  other,  and  pump-handled  and  pounded 
each  other  on  the  back,  whilst  I  sized  the  new 
comer  up.  He  was  my  first  specimen  of  real 
West-Missouri-country  man ;  I  liked  the  breed 
from  that  minute.  He  was  a  cuss,  that  Jimmy. 
When  he  looked  at  you  with  the  twinkle  in  them 
blue  eyes  of  his,  you  could  n  't  help  but  laugh. 
And  if  there  was  n't  a  twinkle  in  those  eyes, 

124. 


Archie  out  of  Aspinwall 

and  you  laughed,  you  made  a  mistake.  Thun 
der!  but  he  was  a  sight  to  take  your  eye— the 
reckless,  handsome,  long-legged  scamp !  With 
his  yellow  silk  handkerchief  around  his  neck, 
and  his  curls  of  yellow  hair — pretty  as  a  wo 
man's—and  his  sombrero  canted  back— he 
looked  as  if  he  was  made  of  mountain-top  fresh 
air. 

"Well,  Jesse!"  says  he;  "well,  Jess,  you 
durned  old  porpoise !  You  look  as  hearty  as 
usual,  and  still  wearing  your  legs  cut  short,  I 
see ;  but  what  the  devil  have  you  been  doing  to 
your  boat  ? ' ' 

So  then  Jesse  told  him  about  the  tornado. 

Jimmy 's  eyes  were  taking  the  whole  place  in, 
although  he  listened  with  care. 

"Well,  what  brings  you  aboard,  Jim?"  says 
Jesse. 

"I  'm  looking  for  a  man,"  says  Jimmy.  "I 
want  a  white  man  ;  a  good,  kind,  orderly  sort  of 
white  man  that  '11  do  what  he  's  told  without  a 
word,  and  '11  bust  my  head  for  me  if  I  dast 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

curse  him  the  way  I  do  the  pups  working  for 
me  now." 

"  H  'm ! "  says  Jesse,  sliding  me  a  kind  of  un- 
derneath-the-table  glance.  ''What  's  the  line 
of  work?" 

"Why,  the  main  job  is  to  be  around  and 
look  and  act  white.  I  got  too  durned  much 
to  see  to— there  's  the  ranch  and  the  mine  and 
the  store— that  drunken  ex-college  professor  I 
hired  did  me  to  the  tune  of  fifteen  hundred 
cold  yellow  disks  and  skipped.  You  see,  I 
want  somebody  to  tell,  'Here,  you  look  after 
this,'  and  he  won't  tell  me  that  ain't  in  the 
lesson.  Ain't  you  got  a  young  feller  that  '11 
grow  to  my  ways?  I  '11  pay  him  according  to 
his  size." 

"H'm!"  says  Jesse  again,  jerking  a  thumb 
toward  me.  ' '  There  's  a  boy  you  might  do  busi 
ness  with." 

Jim's  head  come  around  with  the  quickness 
that  marked  him.  Looking  into  that  blue  eye  of 
his  was  like  looking  into  a  mirror— you  guessed 

126 


, 


Archie  out  of  Aspinwall 

all  there  was  to  you  appeared  in  it.  He  had  me 
estimated  in  three  fifths  of  a  second. 

' '  Howdy,  boy ! ' '  says  he,  coining  toward  me 
with  his  hand  out.  "My  name  's  Jim  Holton. 
You  heard  the  talk— what  do  you  think?" 

I  looked  at  him  for  a  minute,  embarrassed. 
"I  don't  seem  to  be  able  to  think,"  says  I. 
"Lay  it  out  again,  will  you?  I  reckon  the  an 
swer  is  yes." 

"It  sure  is,"  says  he.  "It  's  got  to  be. 
What  's  your  name?"  He  showed  he  liked  me 
—he  was  n't  afraid  to  show  anybody  that  he 
liked  'em— or  did  n't. 

"Bill,"  says  I— "Bill  Saunders." 

' '  Now  Heaven  is  kind ! ' '  says  he.  ' '  I  had  n  't 
raised  my  hopes  above  a  Sam  or  a  Tommy,  but 
to  think  of  a  strapping,  blue-eyed,  brick-topped, 
bully-boy  Bill !  Bill ! "  he  says, ' '  can  you  guess 
Old  Man  Noah's  feelings  when  the  little 
bird  flew  up  to  him  with  the  tree  in  his  teeth  ? 
Well,  he  '11  seem  sad  alongside  of  me  when  I 
catch  sight  of  that  sunrise  head  of  yours  above 

129 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

my  gang  of  mud-colored  greasers  and  China 
men.  You  owe  it  to  charity  to  give  me  that 
pleasure.  By  the  way,  William,  if  you  should 
see  a  greaser  flatten  his  ears  back  and  lay  a 
hand  on  his  knife,  what  would  you  do— read 
him  a  chapter  of  the  Bible,  or  kick  him  in  the 
belt?" 

I  thought  this  over.  ' '  I  don 't  know, ' '  says  I. 
'  *  I  never  saw  anybody  do  that. ' ' 

' '  Bill, ' '  says  he,  "  I  'm  getting  more  and  more 
contented  with  you.  I  thought  at  first  you 
might  be  quarrelsome.  You  don't  fight,  do 
you?" 

''Well,"  I  says,  flustered,  "not  to  any  great 
extent— not  unless  I  get  mad,  or  the  other  feller 
does  something,  or  I  feel  I  ought  to,  or— 

' '  'Nough  said, ' '  says  he.  ' '  There  's  reasons 
enough  to  keep  the  peace  of  Europe.  I  have  ob 
served,  Bill,  in  this  and  many  other  countries, 
that  dove-winged  peace  builds  her  little  nest 
when  I  hit  first  and  hardest.  I  tell  you,  on  the 
square,  I  '11  use  you  right  as  long  as  you  seem 

130 


Archie  out  of  Aspinwall 

to  appreciate  it.  That  's  my  line  of  action,  and 
1  can  prove  it  by  Jesse— I  can  prove  anything 
by  Jesse.  No ;  but,  honest,  boy,  if  you  come  with 
me,  there  's  little  chance  for  us  to  bunk  as  long- 
as  you  do  your  share.  And,"  he  says,  sizing 
me  up,  "if  an  accident  should  happen,  when 
you  Ve  got  more  meat  on  that  frame  of  yours, 
be  durned  if  I  don't  believe  it  would  be  worth 
the  trouble." 

"Explain  to  him,"  says  Jesse;  "the  boy  V 
just  away  from  his  ina— he  don't  know  nothing 
about  working  out," 

Jim  turned  to  me,  perfectly  serious— he  was 
like  Sax— joke  as  long  as  it  was  joking-time, 
then  drop  it  and  talk  as  straight  as  a  rifle- 
barrel. 

"I  want  a  right-hand  man  of  my  own  coun 
try,"  he  says.  "You  '11  have  to  watch  gangs  of 
men  to  see  they  work  up ;  keep  an  eye  on  what 
goes  out  from  the  stores ;  beat  the  head  off  the 
first  beggar  you  see  abusing  a  horse ;  and  do 
what  I  tell  you,  generally.  For  that,  I  '11  put 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

one  hundred  United  States  dollars  in  your 
jeans  each  and  every  month  we  're  together, 
unless  you  prove  to  be  worth  more— or  nothing. 
I  won't  pay  less,  for  the  man  in  the  job  that 
ain't  worth  a  hundred  ain't  worth  a  cent- 
how  's  it  hit  you?" 

A  hundred  dollars  a  month!  It  hit  me  so 
hard  my  teeth  rattled. 

"Well,"  I  stammers,  "a  hundred  dollars  is 
an  awful  lot  of  money— you  ain't  going  to  find 
the  worth  of  it  in  my  hide— I  don't  know  about 
bossing  men  and  things  like  that— why,  I  don't 
know  any  thing — 

He  put  his  hand  on  my  shoulder  and  smiled 
at  me.  He  had  a  smile  as  sweet  as  a  woman's. 
He  was  as  nice  as  a  woman,  on  his  good  side— 
and  you  'd  better  keep  that  side  toward  you. 
Him  and  Sax  was  of  a  breed  there,  too.  I  un 
derstood  him  better  from  knowing  Sax. 

"Billy  boy,"  he  says,  "that  's  my  funeral. 
I  've  dealt  with  men  some  years.  I  don't  ask 
you  for  experience :  I  ask  you  for  intentions.  I 

132 


Archie  out  of  Aspinwall 

get  sick,  living  with  a  lot  of  men  that  don't  care 
any  more  about  me  than  I  do  about  them— that 
ain't  living.  You  can  clear  your  mind.  I  like 
your  looks.  If  I  Ve  made  a  mistake,  why,  it  's 
a  mistake,  and  we  '11  part  still  good  friends.  If 
I  have  n't  made  a  mistake,  it  won't  take  you 
long  to  learn  what  I  want  you  to  know,  and  I  '11 
get  the  worth  of  my  time  training  a  good  pup- 
is  it  a  go,  son?" 

I  was  so  delighted  I  took  right  hold  of  his 
hand.  "I  begin  to  hope  you  and  me  will  never 
come  to  words, ' '  said  he  as  he  straightened  his 
fingers  out. 

I  blundered  out  an  apology.  He  reached  up 
and  rubbed  my  hair  around.  l '  There  was  heart 
in  that  grip,  son,"  he  said.  "You  need  n't  ex 
cuse  that. ' ' 

Just  then  Mary  came  on  deck  and  he  saw  her. 
He  whistled  under  his  breath.  "That  the  kind 
of  cargo  you  carry  now,  Jess!"  he  asked. 
"I  '11  take  all  you  got  off  your  hands  at  your 
own  price." 

133 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

"Like  to  know  her?"  says  Jesse.  "She  's 
going  to  teach  in  one  of  them  mission  schools  at 
Panama.  You  '11  see  her  again,  likely." 

"I  suppose  she  ought  to  be  consulted,"  says 
Jim;  "but  I  '11  waive  ceremony  with  you, 
Jesse." 

So  they  went  aft  to  where  Mary  stood,  a  little 
look  of  expectancy  on  her  face.  She  'd  been 
about  to  join  Sax,  but  seeing  the  two  come, 
did  n't  like  to  move,  as  it  was  evident  they  had 
something  to  say  to  her. 

Jesse  and  Jim  made  a  curious  team.  Jesse 
flew  along  on  his  little  trotters,  whilst  Jim 
swung  in  a  long,  easy  cat-stride,  three  foot  and 
a  half  to  the  pace.  Jesse  always  looked  kind  of 
tied  together  loose.  Jim  was  trim  as  a  race 
horse—yet  not  finicky.  His  spurs  rattled  on 
the  deck.  Take  him  from  boots  to  scalp-lock, 
he  was  a  pretty  picture  of  a  man. 

"Miss  Smith,"  says  Jesse,  with  a  bob,  "this 
feller  's  Jim  Holton." 

"And  very  glad  that  he  is,  for  once  in  his 


Archie  out  of  Aspinwall 

life, ' '  says  Jim,  sweeping  the  deck  with  his  hat, 
and  looking  compliments. 

Mary  smiled  just  enough  to  make  the  dimples 
count.  They  were  best  of  the  dimple  family— 
not  fat  dimples,  but  little  spots  you  'd  like  to 
own. 

She  was  n't  the  girl  to  take  gaiety  from  a 
stranger;  but,  somehow,  Jim  showed  for  what 
he  was— a  clean  heart,  if  frolicsome. 

Mary  was  a  match  for  him,  all  right.  She 
made  him  as  deep  a  bow,  gave  him  a  look,  and 
in  a  mock-earnest  way,  with  her  hand  on  her 
heart,  said : 

"Am  I  to  suppose  myself  the  cause  of  so 
much  joy?" 

"You  're  not  to  suppose — you  're  to  know," 
says  Jim. 

"Well,"  says  Mary,  with  another  flying  look 
at  him,  "it  does  n't  seem  possible;  but  the  evi 
dence  of  such  very  truthful  and  very  blue,  blue 
eyes"— she  stopped  and  looked  at  the  eyes— 
"is,  of  course,  beyond  questioning. " 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

That  knocked  Jimmy.  Underneath  his  dash, 
he  was  a  modest  fellow,  and  to  have  his  per 
sonal  appearance  remarked  openly  rattled  him. 
Mary  'd  got  the  war  on  his  territory  in  two  sec 
onds.  He  looked  at  her,  dumb ;  until,  seeing  her 
holding  back  her  laughter  by  means  of  a  row  of 
the  whitest  of  teeth  set  into  the  most  interesting 
of  under  lips,  he  laughed  right  out  and  offered 
his  hand. 

"I  '11  simply  state  in  plain  English,"  he 
says,  not  wanting  to  quit  whipped,  "that  you 
are  the  best  use  those  eyes  have  ever  been  put 
to." 

"That  's  entirely  satisfactory,"  says  Mary. 
"I  'd  have  a  bad  disposition  not  to  be  con 
tented  with  that— and,  Mr.  Holton,  here  's  a 
friend  of  mine— Mr.  Saxton." 

Saxton  was  the  only  one  who  had  n't  drawn 
entertainment  out  of  the  previous  performance. 
He  and  Holton  shook  hands  without  smiles.  It 
was  more  like  the  hand-shake  before  "time"  is 
called.  But  they  looked  each  other  square  in 

136 


Archie  out  of  Aspinwall 

the  eye — honest  enemies,  at  least — not  like  the 
durned  brute— well,  he  comes  later. 

There  they  stood;  fine,  graceful,  upstanding 
hu-huskies,  both;  each  as  handsome  as  the 
other,  in  his  own  way ;  each  as  able  as  the  other, 
in  his  own  way;  one  black  and  poetic-looking; 
the  other  fair  and  romantic-looking.  You  pays 
your  money  and  you  takes  your  choice.  Sax 
knew  more  of  books ;  Jim  knew  more  of  men. 
Sax  knew  the  wild  lands  of  music  and  such ;  Jim 
had  slept  with  an  Injun  or  two  watching  out  to 
be  sure  he  was  n't  late  for  the  office  the  next 
morning.  Either  one  was  plenty  durn  good 
enough  to  make  a  girl  fix  her  hair  straight. 

And  there  stood  Mary,  the  cause  of  the  look 
each  man  put  upon  the  other.  She  'd  brought 
down  Jim  in  one  stroke— he  was  a  sudden  sort 
of  jigger.  Well,  there  she  stood ;  and  if  there  's 
anything  in  having  a  subject  worth  fighting  for, 
those  two  fellers  ought  to  have  been  the  happi 
est  of  men. 

I  'm  glad  I  can  add  this :  Mary  did  n't  want 

137 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

any  man  to  fight  about  her— not  much!  She 
was  the  real,  true  woman ;  the  kind  that  brings 
hope  in  her  hand.  Of  course  she  had  some  van 
ity,  and  if  two  fellows  got  a  little  cross  when 
she  was  around,  that  would  n  't  break  her  heart ; 
but  to  arouse  any  deep  feeling  of  anger  between 
two  men— why,  I  honestly  believe  she  'd  rather 
they  'd  strike  her  than  each  other.  Oh,  no ! 
She  stood  for  nothing  of  that  kind.  She  stood 
heart  and  soul  for  light  and  fun  and  kindness. 
If  she  made  mistakes,  it  was  from  a  natural  un 
derrating  of  how  the  other  party  felt,  or,  like 
her  worst  mistake,  through  some  twisted  idea 
of  duty.  There  's  a  saying  that  a  little  know 
ledge  is  a  dangerous  thing,  and  that  's  particu 
larly  true  of  women.  When  a  good  woman  gets 
hold  of  half  a  fact,  she  can  raise  the  very  devil 
with  it. 

That  two  felt  disposed  to  glare  put  restraint 
on  conversation,  and  after  some  talk,  in  which 
Jim  fished  for  an  invitation  to  call  on  Mary  in 
Panama,  and  got  what  you  might  call  a  limited 


Archie  out  of  Aspinwall 

order— "I  shall  be  very  glad  to  see  you,  some 
time,  Mr.  Holton"— he  turned  and  treated  me 
to  a  view  of  Western  methods. 

"Pack  your  turkey  and  come  with  me,  Bill," 
he  says. 

"A\7hat— now?"  says  I. 

' '  Well,  I  '11  wait,  if  you  want  me  to, ' '  he  says. 
' '  But  what  's  your  reason  ? ' ' 

' '  Not  any, ' '  says  I,  and  skipped  for  my  truck. 
Is  n't  it  surprising  how  people,  even  boys,  that 
ain't  much  troubled  about  fixed  rules,  will  keep 
on  going  the  same  old  way ;  not  because  there  's 
sense,  comfort,  nor  profit  in  it,  but  simply  be 
cause  it  is  the  same  old  way  ?  I  Ve  known  folks 
to  live  in  places  and  keep  at  jobs,  hating  both, 
could  quit  easily,  yet  staying  on  and  on,  simply 
because  they  were  there  yesterday.  I  Ve  got  so 
that  if  people  start  talking  over  an  act,  I  feel 
like  saying,  "For  Heaven's  sake!  Let  's  try 
it  and  then  we  '11  knoir,"  while  at  the  same  time 
it  happens  that  their  talk  is  so  good,  I  feel  bash 
ful  about  cutting  in.  Give  me  the  Western  idea. 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

People  that  get  an  action  on,  instead  of  an  ora 
tion.  That  is,  if  they  're  the  right  kind  of  peo 
ple.  Yet  I  dearly  love  to  talk.  It  's  a  strange 
world ! 

Jimmy  was  the  Western  idea  on  two  legs. 
The  moment  he  thought  of  a  thing,  he  grew 
busy.  And  when  work  was  over,  I  'd  talk  him 
against  any  man  I  ever  met.  Perhaps  the  chief 
difference  between  the  Western  man 's  way  and 
the  Eastern  man's  way  is  that  the  Westerner 
says  it  's  fun  and  believes  it,  whilst  the  East 
erner  says  it  's  a  great  and  holy  undertaking 
he  's  employed  in,  and  wastes  lots  of  time  try 
ing  to  believe  it.  We  all  do  the  things  we  like 
to  do,  and  we  might  as  well  admit  it,  cheerful. 

I  had  n't  much  more  than  time  to  say  good-by 
all  around,  and  find  out  where  Sax  and  Mary 
were  going  to  stay,  before  I  was  off  on  the  new 
deal. 

"Have  you  ever  ridden  a  horse?"  Jim  asks 
me,  when  we  hit  shore. 

' '  Never, ' '  says  I. 

140 


Archie  out  of  Aspinwall 

"Well,"  says  he,  rubbing  his  head,  "we  can 
go  across  on  the  railroad,  but  I  'd  like  to  stop 
here  and  there.  It  would  n't  be  so  bad  if  the 
good  critters  had  n't  been  all  hired  out  or 
bought  this  last  rush.  As  it  is,  you  stand  to  get 
on  to  something  that  don't  want  you.  My 
Pedro  'd  eat  you  alive  if  you  laid  a  hand 
on  him,  or  I  'd  trade  with  you— you  got  to 
learn  sometime,  Bill,  but  you  '11  get  a  tough 
first  lesson  here— suppose  we  take  the  train, 
eh?" 

Now,  I  had  n  't  come  to  the  Isthmus  of  Pan 
ama  to  exhibit  all  the  things  I  was  afraid  of.  I 
did  n 't  like  the  thought  of  playing  puss-in-the- 
corner  with  a  horse  I  'd  never  met  before,  a 
little  bit,  and  I  liked  the  idea  of  backing  out  still 
less. 

' '  Trot  your  animal  out, ' '  I  says.  ' '  I  guess,  if 
I  get  a  hold  on  him,  we  won't  separate  for 
a  while." 

Jim  rubbed  his  head  again. 

' '  I  don 't  want  to  lose  you  right  in  the  start, ' ' 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

he  says.  "These  mustangs  are  the  most  re 
liable  hunks  of  wickedness  on  earth— 

"All  I  need  to  try  and  ride  is  a  horse,"  I 
says.  He  laughed  and  shrugged  his  shoulders. 
"I  won't  quarrel  with  that  spirit,"  he  says. 
He  spoke  to  a  native  in  Spanish.  The  feller 
looked  at  me  and  spread  both  hands.  I  scarcely 
knew  there  was  such  a  thing  as  a  Spanish  lan 
guage,  but  I  knew  that  those  hands  said, ' '  This 
is  the  impossible  you  have  shoved  down  my 
chimney. ' ' 

Jim  translated.  "He  says  he  can't  think  of 
but  one  brute,  and  he  can't  imagine  you  and 
that  one  making  any  kind  of  combination. ' ' 

"If  you  're  keeping  me  here  to  see  my  sand 
run  out,  you  '11  make  it,  all  right,"  I  says— 
' '  otherwise,  get  that  horse. ' ' 

Jim  spoke  to  the  native  and  the  native  looked 
at  me  again,  shaking  his  head  sorrowful.  At 
last  he  discarded  all  responsibility  and  ambled 
off. 

Here  come  my  gallant  steed.    His  neck  had  a 

142 


Archie  out  of  Aspinwall 

haughty  in-curve ;  he  was  bow-legged  forrud, 
and  knock-kneed  aft.  His  hips  stuck  out  so  far 
the  hair  couldn't  get  the  nourishment  it  needed, 
and  fell  out.  He  had  a  nose  like  Julius  Caesar, 
an  under  lip  that  hung  down  three  inches,  and 
the  eye  of  a  dying  codfish.  I  lost  all  fear  of  him 
at  once.  Ignorance  is  the  papa  of  courage. 
According  to  instructions,  I  put  my  left  foot  in 
the  stirrup  and  made  ready  to  board.  At  that 
instant  my  trusty  steed  whipped  his  head 
around  like  a  rattlesnake,  gathered  a  strip  of 
flesh  about  six  inches  long,  shut  his  eyes,  and 
made  his  teeth  to  approach  each  other.  I  Ve 
been  hurt  several  times  in  my  life,  but  for 
straight  agony  give  me  a  horse-bite. 

With  a  yell  that  brought  out  every  revolu 
tionist  in  Aspinwall,— which  means  the  town 
was  there,  — I  grabbed  that  cussed  brute  by  the 
windpipe  and  stopped  his  draft.  Jim  and  the 
native  made  some  motions. 

"Keep  out  of  this!"  L  hollered.  "This  is  my 
fight!" 

H3 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

So  then  me  and  my  faithful  horse  began  to 
see  who  could  stand  it  the  longest.  There  was 
nothing  soul-stirring  and  uplifting  about  the 
contest.  He  pinched  my  leg,  and  I  pinched  his 
throat.  He  kicked  me,  and  I  kicked  him.  We 
wrastled  all  over  the  place,  playing  plain  stick- 
to-him-Pete.  The  worst  of  having  a  hand-to- 
hand  with  an  animal  is  that  he  don 't  tire.  You 
get  weaker  and  weaker ;  they  get  stronger  and 
stronger.  Besides,  the  pain  in  my  leg  almost 
seemed  to  stop  my  heart.  Murder !  how  it  hurt ! 

At  the  same  time,  a  horse  does  n  't  do  as  well 
without  an  occasional  breath  of  fresh  air,  and 
I  had  this  feller 's  supply  cut  off  short.  Pretty 
soon  he  got  frantic,  and  the  way  he  tore  and 
r'ared  around  there  was  a  treat.  It  did  n't  oc 
cur  to  either  one  of  us  to  let  go.  Finally,  when 
I  'd  ceased  to  think  entirely,  there  came  a  stag 
gering  sort  of  fall ;  hands  took  hold  of  me  and 
dragged  me  away. 

Jim  lifted  my  head  and  gave  me  a  drink  of 
water.  He  swore  at  himself  ferocious,  and  by 

144. 


Archie  out  of  Aspinwall 

all  that  was  great  and  powerful,  he  was  going 
to  shoot  that  horse. 

By  this  time  I  was  interested  in  the  art  of  rid 
ing.  I  told  him  he  was  n't  going  to  kill  my 
horse;  that  I  intended  to  ride  that  same  mus 
tang  out  of  the  town  of  Aspinwall  if  it  took 
some  time  and  all  of  my  left  leg. 

' '  What  's  the  good  of  being  a  fool  ? ' '  says  he. 
"Now,  Bill,  you  be  sensible." 

' i  Where  's  the  horse ! ' '  says  I. 

He  had  to  laugh.  ' i  United  you  fell, ' '  says  he. 
( '  I  honest  think  he  had  n  't  a  cent  the  best  of  it. ' ' 

I  got  on  my  feet  and  made  for  Mr.  Mustang. 
As  the  critter  stood  there,  with  his  sad  lower 
lip  hanging  slack,  thinking  what  a  wicked  world 
it  was,  I  recalled  who  he  looked  like.  He  was 
the  dead  ringer  for  Archibald  Blavelt,  back 
home.  Archie  was  such  a  mean  old  cuss  that 
the  neighborhood  was  proud  of  him— he  car 
ried  it  'way  beyond  the  point  where  it  was  a 
disgrace.  T  should  have  known  better  than  to 
tackle  anything  that  resembled  Archie,  but  I 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

did  n't.  Instead,  I  walked  up,  club  in  hand, 
waiting  for  the  mustang  to  make  a  crooked 
move.  He  paid  no  attention,  let  me  put  my 
foot  in  the  stirrup,  swing  aboard  and  settle 
down.  Not  till  then  did  he  toss  his  head  gaily 
in  the  air  and  holler  for  joy.  You  see,  he  'd 
made  out  that  we  were  likely  to  break  even, 
both  on  the  ground,  so  he  tried  getting  under 
me.  I  refuse  to  say  what  happened  next.  I 
thought  I  was  aboard  the  Matilda  with  the  tor 
nado  on.  I  saw,  in  jerks,  pale-faced  men 
scrambling  right  up  the  sides  of  houses;  wo 
men  shrieking  and  dusting  away  from  there, 
and  between  thirty  and  forty  thousand  dogs, 
barking  and  snapping  and  tumbling  out  of  the 
way. 

I  laid  two  strong  hands  on  Archie's  (I  called 
him  Archie)  mane  and  wrapped  my  legs 
around  his  barrel  and  gave  myself  up  for  lost. 
We  spent  years  tearing  that  section  of  Aspin- 
wall  to  pieces,  till,  all  of  a  sudden,  Archie  give 
a  jump  that  landed  me  on  his  rump  and  pulled 

146 


I  laid  two  strong  hau<ls  on  Aivhit-'s  mane' 


Archie  out  of  Aspinwall 

out  for  more  room.  And  did  n't  he  go !  It  was 
scandalous,  the  way  he  flapped  them  bony  legs 
of  his.  Once  in  a  while  he  kicked  up  behind, 
and  I  made  a  fine  bow.  Every  time  that  hap 
pened  some  polite  Spaniard  took  off  his  hat  to 
me,  thinking  I  was  a  friend  he  had  n't  time  to 
recognize. 

I  stayed  with  that  mustang,  somehow,  until 
we  come  to  a  narrow  alley.  At  the  end  of  it  a 
fearful  fat  Spaniard,  with  a  Panama  hat  and  a 
green  umbrella,  was  crossing.  I  hollered  to 
him  to  get  out  of  the  way,  but  the  sight  of  me 
and  Archie  streaming  in  the  breeze  surprised 
him  so  he  stood  paralyzed.  He  made  a  fat 
man's  hop  for  safety,  too  late.  When  we  were 
fifteen  feet  from  him,  Archie  threw  a  hand 
spring,  and  I  put  my  head, like  a  red  buttonhole 
bouquet,  plumb  in  the  gentleman's  vest. 

"Assassin!"  he  cries,  and  fetches  me  a  wipe 
with  the  green  umbrella  before  he  expires  tem 
porarily  on  the  street. 

Of  course,  there  's  lots  of  things  will  damage 

14.9 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

you  worse  than  butting  a  stout  gentleman ;  at 
the  same  time  I  went  at  him  quick,  and  stopped 
quicker.  This  world  was  all  a  dizzy  show,  till 
the  crowd  came  up,  Jim,  on  his  Pedro,  leading. 
They  were  all  there :  all  the  revolutionists,  all 
the  women  with  babies,  and  all  the  dogs,  down 
to  the  last  pup.  I  could  n  't  have  had  a  bigger 
audience  if  I  'd  done  something  to  be  proud  of. 

Some  of  'em  held  on  to  the  fat  gentleman, 
who  was  yearning  to  draw  my  heart's  blood 
with  the  green  umbrella.  Some  of  'em  stood 
and  admired  Archie,  who  was  smacking  his 
lips  over  some  grass  that  grew  on  the  side,  and 
looked  about  as  vicious  as  Mary  and  her  little 
lamb;  some  of  'em  come  to  help  me— all  con 
versed  freely. 

"Now,  darn  your  buttons!"  says  Jim,  "you 
might  have  been  killed!  Had  n't  been  for 
Senor  Martinez  there,  you  would  'a'  been. 
Did  n 't  I  tell  you  not  to  try  it  again— did  n 't  I  ?  " 

It  was  quite  true  he  had  told  me  that  very 
thing.  At  the  same  time,  one  of  the  least  con- 

150 


Archie  out  of  Aspinwall 

soling  things  in  this  world,  when  a  man  's 
made  a  fool  of  himself,  is  to  have  somebody 
come  up  and  tell  him  he  prophesied  it.  You  'd 
like  to  think  it  just  happened  that  way. 
It  breaks  your  heart  to  feel  it  's  like  twice 
two. 

I  sat  up  and  looked  at  Jim.  "You  told  me 
all  that, ' '  says  I,  ' '  but  what  's  the  matter  with 
letting  virtue  be  its  own  reward?" 

Jim  laughed  and  said  he  guessed  I  was  not 
quite  done  yet.  Then  he  introduced  me  to  Mr. 
Martinez  as  the  grateful  result  of  a  well-lined 
stomach  applied  at  the  proper  time. 

Martinez  sheathed  the  green  umbrella  and 
extended  the  hand  of  friendship,  like  the  Span 
ish  gentleman  he  was. 

"Ah  me!"  says  he,  "but  you  ride  with  furi 
osity!  And,"  he  adds  thoughtfully,  "your 
head  is  of  a  firmness."  He  waved  his  hand  so 
the  diamonds  glittered  like  a  shower.  "A 
treefle  — a  leetle,  leetle  treeful,"  by  which  he 
meant  trifle.  ' '  Now, ' '  says  he,  as  if  we  'd  fin- 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

ished  some  important  business,  "shall  we  re 
suscitate?" 

Jim  said  we  would,  so  the  whole  crowd 
moved  to  where  Santiago  Christobal  Colon 
0 'Sullivan  gave  you  things  that  lightened  the 
shadows  for  the  time  being,  and  proceeded  to 
resuscitate. 

Inside,  Mr.  Martinez  the  Stout  told  the  whole 
story  between  drinks.  He  was  the  horse,  or 
me,  or  himself,  or  the  consequences,  as  occasion 
required.  I  'd  have  gone  through  more  than 
that  to  see  Mr.  Martinez  gallop  the  length  of 
the  saloon,  making  it  clear  to  us  how  Archie 
acted.  And  when  he  was  me,  darned  if  he 
did  n't  manage  to  look  like  me,  and  when  he 
was  Archie  he  seemed  to  thin  out  and  grow 
bony  hip-joints  immediately;  Archie  'd  nick 
ered  at  sight  of  him.  How  in  blazes  a  three- 
hundred-pound  Spanish  gentleman  contrived 
to  resemble  a  thin,  red-headed  six-foot-two  New 
England  kid  and  a  bow-necked,  cat-hammed 
mustang  is  an  art  beyond  me.  He  did  it ;  let  it 
go  at  that. 


Archie  out  of  Aspinwall 

Outside,  the  men  went  over  it  all.  The  wo 
men  dropped  their  babies  in  the  street,  so  they 
could  have  their  hands  free  to  talk.  I  think 
even  the  dogs  took  a  shy  at  the  story.  Never 
were  folks  so  interested.  And,  strange  to 
Yankee  eyes,  not  a  soul  laughed. 

I  learned  then  the  reason  why  the  Spanish- 
American  incorporated  the  revolution  in  his 
constitution.  It  's  because  of  the  scarcity  of 
theaters.  If  there  was  a  theater  for  every  ten 
inhabitants,  and  plays  written  where  everybody 
was  a  king,  peace  would  settle  on  Spanish 
America  like  a  green  scum  on  a  frog-pond. 

Howsomever,  I  ain't  going  to  jeer  at  those 
people.  I  got  to  like  'em,  and,  as  far  as  that 
goes,  we  have  little  fool  ways  of  our  own  that 
we  notice  when  we  get  far  enough  away  from 
home  to  see  straight. 

I  did  n't  ride  Archie  out  of  Aspinwall.  I 
went  to  a  hotel,  slept  strictly  on  one  side,  and 
scrapped  it  out  with  the  little  natives  of  the 
Isthmus  until  morning. 

Curious,  how  things  go.    After  this  first  ex- 

153 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

perience  I  should  n't  have  said  that  riding  a 
horse  would  grow  on  me  until  being  without 
one  made  me  feel  as  if  I  'd  lost  the  use  of  my 
legs.  Water  is  all  right.  I  like  boats— I  like 
about  everything— but  still,  I  think  the  Al 
mighty  never  did  better  by  man  than  when  he 
put  him  on  a  horse.  A  good  horse,  open  coun 
try—miles  of  it,  without  a  stick  or  hole— a 
warm  sun  and  a  cool  wind— can  you  beat  it? 
I  can 't. 


154 


IX 


ENTER  BROTHER  BELKNAP 

I  CAN  slide  over  my  first  month's  work 
quick.  At  least  half  of  us  have  been  boys 
once,  and  a  good  share  of  that  half  have 
run  into  the  stiff  proposition  when  they  were 
boys.  I  carried  on  my  back  most  of  the  trou 
ble  in  that  part  of  the  country— they  were  a 
careless  people.  Jim  give  me  my  head  and  let 
me  bump  it  into  mistakes.  "Find  out"  was 
his  motto.  "Don't  ask  the  boss,"  and  I  found 
out,  perspiring  freely  the  while.  I  had  to  hire 
men  and  fire  'em,  wrastle  with  the  Spanish  lan 
guage,  keep  books,  keep  my  temper,  learn 
what  a  day's  work  meant,  learn  to  handle  a 
team,  get  the  boys  to  pull  together,  and  last, 
but  not  least,  try  to  get  the  best  of  that  cussed 
horse,  Archie. 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

I  can't  tell  which  was  the  worst.  I  know 
this,  though :  while  my  sympathies  are  with  the 
hired  man,  yet  that  season  of  getting  along 
with  him  taught  me  that  the  boss's  job  is  n't 
one  long,  sugar-coated  dream,  neither.  If  the 
hired  man  knew  more,  he  'd  have  less  wrongs, 
and  also,  if  he  knew  more,  he  would  n't  be  a 
hired  man.  What  that  proves,  I  pass. 

Keeping  books  wore  down  my  proud  spirit, 
too.  I  do  hate  a  puttering  job.  It  was  all 
there,  anyhow.  Jim  pulled  at  his  mustache 
and  wrinkled  his  manly  brow  when  he  first 
snagged  on  my  bookkeeping.  "What  the 
devil  is  this  item  ?  "  he  'd  say.  ' ' '  Francis  Lopez 
borrowed  a  dollar  on  his  pay;  says  his  mo 
ther  's  sick.  That  's  a  lie,  I  bet.'  You  must  n't 
let  the  boys  have  money  that  way,  Bill,  and 
never  mind  putting  your  thoughts  in  the  cash- 
book— save  'em  for  your  diary." 

I  got  the  hang  of  it  after  a  while,  and  one 
grand  day  my  cash  balanced.  That  was  a 
moment  to  remember.  I  don't  recall  that  it 

156 


Enter  Brother  Belknap 

ever  happened  again.  The  store  made  most 
of  my  trouble.  We  handled  all  kinds  of  truck, 
from  kerosene  oil  to  a  jews '-harp,  through 
rough  clothes  and  the  hardware  department. 
My  helper  was  the  lunkheadest  critter  God 
ever  trusted  outdoors.  You  'd  scarcely  believe 
one  man's  head  could  be  so  foolish.  At  the 
same  time  the  poor  devil  was  kind  and  polite, 
and  he  needed  the  job  so  bad,  I  could  n't  fire 
him.  But  he  took  some  of  the  color  out  of  my 
hair,  all  right.  lie  was  a  Mexican  who  talked 
English,  so  he  was  useful  that  way,  anyhow. 
But  Man !  What  the  stuff  cost  was  marked 
in  letters— "Washington"  was  our  cost- 
mark  word.  If  the  thing  cost  a  dollar  fifty, 
it  was  marked  WIN,  then  you  tacked  on 
the  profit.  Well,  poor  Pedro  used  to  forget 
all  about  the  father  of  his  country,  if  there 
came  a  rush,  and  as  he  did  n't  have  any  natu 
ral  common  sense,  you  could  expect  him  to  sell 
a  barrel  of  kerosene  for  two  bits  and  charge 
eight  dollars  for  a  paper  of  needles.  When- 

157 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

ever  I  heard  wild  cries  of  astonishment  and 
saw  the  arms  a-flying,  I  could  be  sure  that  Pe 
dro  had  lost  track  of  American  history.  He  'd 
make  a  statue  of  William  Penn  get  up  and 
cuss,  that  feller.  I  tried  everything— wrote 
out  the  prices,  gave  him  lists,  put  pictures  of 
our  George  all  over  the  store,  swore  at  him 
till  I  was  purple  and  him  weeping  in  his  pocket- 
handkerchief,  calling  the  saints  to  witness  how 
the  memory  of  the  G-r-r-eat  Ouash-eeng-tong 
would  never  depart  from  his  mind  again,  and 
in  three  minutes  he  'd  sell  a  twenty-five  dollar 
Stetson  hat  for  eighty-seven  cents.  It  took 
a  good  deal  of  my  time  rushing  around  the 
country  getting  those  sales  back. 

Then,  when  the  confinement  of  the  store  told 
too  much  on  my  nerves  and  the  gangs  had  all 
been  looked  up,  I  went  to  the  corral  and  took 
a  fall  out  of  Archibald.  Or,  more  properly 
speaking,  I  took  a  fall  off  Archibald.  That 
horse  was  a  complete  education  in  the  art  of 
riding.  I  never  since  have  struck  anything, 

158 


Enter  Brother  Belknap 

bronco,  cayuse,  or  American  horse,  that  did  n't 
seem  like  an  amateur  'longside  of  him.  He  'd 
pitch  for  a  half  hour  in  a  space  no  bigger  than 
a  dining-room  table ;  then  he  'd  run  and  buck 
for  another  half  hour.  If  you  stuck  so  much 
out,  he  'd  kick  your  feet  out  of  the  stirrups, 
stick  his  ears  in  the  ground,  and  throw  a  somer 
sault.  No  man  living  could  think  up  more 
schemes  than  that  mustang,  and  you  might  as 
well  try  to  tire  a  steam-engine.  At  the  end  of 
the  first  hour  Archie  was  simply  nice  and  lim 
ber;  the  second  hour  saw  him  getting  into  the 
spirit  of  it;  by  the  third  hour  he  was  warmed 
up  and  working  like  a  charm.  I  'in  guessing 
the  third  hour.  Two  was  my  limit. 

All  these  things  kept  me  from  calling  on  my 
friends  in  town  for  some  time,  till  Jim  gave 
me  three  days  off  to  use  as  I  pi  eased.  I  put 
me  on  the  tallest  steeple  hat  with  the  biggest 
bells  I  could  find;  T  had  spurs  that  would  do 
to  harpoon  a  whale,  and  they  had  jinglers  on 
'em  wherever  a  jingler  would  go.  My  necker- 

10 

159 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

chief  was  a  heavenly  blue,  to  match  my  hair, 
and  it  was  considerably  smaller  than  a  horse- 
blanket.  The  hair  itself  had  grown  well  down 
to  my  neck,  and  she  's  never  been  cut  from 
that  day,  except  to  trim  the  ends.  In  my  sash 
I  stuck  a  horse-pistol  and  a  machete.  Contact 
with  the  Spaniard  had  already  corrupted  me 
into  being  proud  of  my  small  feet,  so  I  spent 
one  hour  getting  my  boots  on,  and  oh,  Lord! 
the  misery  of  those  boots !  I  tell  you  what  it 
is,  if  one  man  or  woman  should  do  to  another 
what  that  victim  will  do  to  himself,  for  Van 
ity's  sake,  the  neighbors  would  rise  and  lynch 
the  offender.  When  I  worried  those  boots  off 
at  night,  I  'd  fall  back  and  enjoy  the  blessed 
relief  for  five  minutes  without  moving.  It  was 
almost  worth  the  pain,  that  five  minutes.  I 
used  to  know  a  man  who  said  he  got  more  real 
value  out  of  the  two  weeks  his  wife  went  to 
visit  her  mother  than  he  did  out  of  a  year,  be 
fore  he  was  married. 
But  I  looked  great,  you  bet.  Probably  my 

160 


Enter  Brother  Belknap 

expression  was  foolish,  but  I  would  n't  mind 
feeling  myself  such  a  thumping  hunk  of  a  man 
once  more,  expression  and  all.  And  I  rode  a  lit 
tle  mouse-colored  American  horse, with  a  cream 
mane  and  tail  and  twTo  white  feet  forward,— 
a  pretty,  playful  little  cuss  with  no  sin  in  him, 
as  proud  of  me  and  himself  as  I  was.  There 
was  only  one  more  thing  to  make  that  trip  com 
plete,  and  about  ten  mile  out  of  Panama  I 
filled.  Out  of  a  side  draw  pops  a  blackavised 
road-agent,  and  informs  me  that  he  wants  my 
money.  I  drew  horse-pistol  and  machete  and 
charged  with  a  loud  holler.  That  brigand  shed 
his  gun  and  threw  his  knees  higher  than  his 
shoulders  getting  out  of  that.  I  paused  and 
overtook  him.  He  explained  sadly  and  un 
truthfully  that  nothing  but  a  starving  wife  and 
twenty-three  children  drove  him  to  such 
courses.  I  told  him  the  evil  of  his  ways  — no 
short  story,  neither.  You  bet  I  spread  myself 
on  that  chance, — then  1  gave  him  two  dollars 
for  the  family  and  rode  my  cheerful  way.  It 

161 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

really  is  beautiful  to  think  of  anybody  being 
so  pleased  with  anything  as  I  was  with  myself. 
And  the  story  I  had  now  to  tell  Mary !  We  did 
a  fast  ten  mile  into  Panama. 

I  found  the  house  where  Mary  boarded  with 
out  much  trouble.  It  was  one  of  the  old-fash 
ioned  Spanish  houses  where  the  upper  stories 
stick  out,  although  not  like  some  of  'em,  as 
it  had  a  garden  around  it.  A  bully  old  house, 
with  sweet-smelling  vines  and  creepers  and 
flowers,  and  statues  and  a  fountain  in  the  gar 
den.  The  fountain  only  squirted  in  the  rainy 
season,  but  it  was  good  to  look  at.  A  garden 
with  a  fountain  in  it  was  a  thing  I  'd  always 
wanted  to  see.  Seemed  to  me  like  I  could  be 
gin  to  believe  in  some  of  the  stories  I  read, 
when  I  saw  that. 

Everything  had  a  far-away  look.  For  a  full 
minute  I  could  n  't  get  over  the  notion  that  I  'd 
ridden  into  a  story-book  by  mistake.  So  I 
sat  on  my  horse  and  stared  at  it,  glad  I  came, 
till  a  soft  rush  of  feet  on  the  grass  and  a  voice 
I  'd  often  wanted  to  hear  in  the  past  month 
162 


Enter  Brother  Belknap 

calling,  i '  Why,  Will !  I  was  sure  it  was  you ! ' ' 
made  me  certain  of  my  welcome. 

Now,  1  'd  been  too  busy  to  think  much  lately, 
but  when  my  eyes  fell  on  that  beautiful  girl, 
running  to  see  me,  glad  to  see  me— eyes, mouth, 
and  outstretched  hands  all  saying  she  was  glad 
to  see  me— I  just  naturally  hopped  off  my 
horse,  over  the  wall,  and  gathered  her  in  both 
arms.  vShe  kissed  me,  frank  and  hearty,  and 
then  we  shook  hands  and  said  all  those  things 
that  don't  mean  anything,  that  people  say  to 
relieve  their  feelings. 

Then  she  laughed  and  fixed  her  hair,  eying 
me  sideways,  and  she  says:  "I  don't  know  that 
I  should  permit  that  from  so  large  and  fero 
cious  looking  a  person.  But  perhaps  it  's  too 
late,  so  tell  me  everything— how  do  you  get 
on  with  Air.  Holton  ?  What  are  you  doing? 
Why  have  n't  I  heard  from  you?  I  thought 
certainly  you  would  n't  desert  me  in  this 
strange  country  for  a  whole  month— I  've 
missed  you  awfully." 

"Have  you,  Alary!"  T  said;  "have  you 
163 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

really?"  I  could  n't  get  over  it,  that  she  'd 
missed  me. 

"I  should  say  I  had,  you  most  tremendous 
big  boy,  you ! ' '  she  says,  giving  me  a  little  lov 
ing  shake.  ''Do  you  suppose  I  've  forgotten 
all  our  walks  and  talks  on  the  Matilda?  And 
all  your  funny  speeches?  Oh,  Will !  I  've  been 
homesick,  and  your  dear  old  auburn  locks  are 
home ! ' ' 

"Why,  there  's  Sax!"  says  I,  in  the  inno 
cence  of  my  heart.  ' '  Has  n  't  he  been  around  ? ' ' 

"I  have  n't  seen  much  of  Mr.  Saxton, "  she 
answers,  cooling  so  I  felt  the  need  of  a  coat— 
' '  and  that  's  quite  different. ' ' 

Well,  I  hustled  away  from  the  subject  fast, 
sorry  to  know  something  was  wrong  between 
my  friends,  but  too  durned  selfish  to  spoil  my 
own  greeting.  I  plunged  into  the  history  of 
Mr.  William  Saunders,  from  the  time  of  leav 
ing  the  Matilda.  Mary  was  the  most  eloquent 
listener  I  ever  met.  She  made  a  good  story  of 
whatever  she  harkened  to. 
164 


Enter  Brother  Belknap 

Well,  sir,  I  had  a  pleasant  afternoon.  There 
was  that  story-book  old  house  and  garden, 
Mary  and  me  at  a  little  table,  drinking  lime- 
juice  lemonade,  me  in  my  fine  clothes  out  for 
a  real  holiday,  smoking  like  a  real  man,  telling 
her  about  the  crimp  I  put  in  that  road-agent. 

Yes,  I  was  having  a  glorious  time,  when  the 
gate  opened  and  a  man  came  in.  Somehow, 
from  the  first  look  I  got  of  him  I  did  n't  like 
him.  Something  of  the  shadow  that  used  to 
hang  over  home  lay  in  that  lad's  black  coat. 

Mary's  face  changed.  The  life  went  out. 
Something  heavy,  serious,  and  tired  came  into 
it,  yet  she  met  the  newcomer  with  the  greatest 
respect.  As  they  came  toward  me  I  stiffened 
inside.  Mr.  Belknap  and  Mr.  Saunders  shook 
hands.  His  closed  upon  mine  firmly  and  coldly, 
like  a  machine.  He  announced  that  he  was 
glad  to  meet  me  in  a  tone  of  voice  that  would 
leave  a  jury  doubtful.  We  stood  around,  me 
embarrassed,  and  even  Mary  ill  at  ease,  until 
he  said:  "Shall  we  not  sit  down?"  Feeling 

165 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

at  school  once  more,  down  I  sat.  If  he  'd  said : 
" Shall  we  not  walk  off  upon  our  ears!"  I  'd 
felt  obliged  to  try  it. 

He  put  a  compulsion  on  you.  He  made  you 
want  to  please  him,  though  you  hated  him. 

Well,  there  we  sat.  "Mr.  Belknap  is  doing 
a  wonderful  work  among  these  poor  people," 
explained  Mary  to  me.  There  was  something 
prim  in  her  speech  that  knocked  another  color 
off  the  meeting. 

"You  are  too  good,"  said  Mr.  Belknap. 
He  was  modest,  too,  in  a  way  that  reproached 
you  for  daring  to  talk  of  him  so  careless.  I 
wished  that  Mr.  Belknap  would  get  to  work 
on  his  poor  people  and  leave  us  alone,  but  he 
had  no  such  intention. 

"Miss  Smith,"  says  he,  "is  one  of  those 
who  credit  others  with  the  excellencies  they 
believe  in  from  possession. ' ' 

Mary  colored,  and  a  little  frown  I  could  not 
understand  lay  on  her  forehead  for  the  second. 
It  was  curious,  that  man's  way.  When  he 
166 


Enter  Brother  Belknap 

made  his  speech  it  was  like  he  put  a  rope 
upon  the  girl.  I  did  n't  see  much  meaning 
to  it,  except  a  compliment,  but  I  felt  some 
thing  behind  it,  and  suddenly  I  under 
stood  her  frown.  It  was  the  way  you  look 
when  something  you  feel  you  ought  to  do, 
that  you  Ve  worked  yourself  into  believing 
you  want  to  do,  although  at  the  bottom  of  your 
heart  you  'd  chuck  it  quick,  comes  up  for 
action. 

I  'd  have  broken  into  the  talk  if  I  could,  but 
Brother  Belknap  had  me  tongue-tied,  so  I  just 
sat,  wishful  to  go,  in  spite  of  Mary,  and  unable 
to  start.  It  seemed  like  presuming  a  good  deal 
to  leave,  or  do  anything  else  Mr.  Belknap 
had  n't  mentioned. 

We  talked  like  advice  to  the  young  in  the 
third  reader.  Mr.  Belknap  announced  his  top 
ics  and  smiled  his  superior  knowledge.  I  'd 
have  hit  him  in  the  eye  for  two  cents,  and  at 
the  same  time  if  he  told  me  to  run  away  like 
a  good  little  boy,  darned  if  I  don't  believe  I  'd 
167 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

done  it— me,  that  chased  the  road-agent  up  the 
valley  not  three  hours  before ! 

Mary  moved  her  glass  in  little  circles  and 
looked  off  into  distance.  Something  of  the 
change  from  our  first  being  together,  to  this, 
was  working  in  her.  ''It  is  hard,"  she  said, 
trying  to  pass  it  off  lightly, ' '  to  bear  the  weight 
of  virtues  that  don't  belong  to  me !" 

Mr.  Belknap  leaned  forward.  He  was  a 
heavy-built,  easy-moving  man;  you  had  to 
grant  him  a  kind  of  elegance  that  went  queer 
enough  with  the  preacher-air  he  wore  of  his 
own  will.  He  put  his  head  out  and  looked  at 
her.  I  watched  him  close,  and  I  saw  a  crafty, 
hard  light  in  his  eyes  as  if  the  tiger  in  him 
had  come  for  a  look  out  of  doors.  He  purred 
soft,  like  a  tiger.  ' i  Nowhere  is  humility  more 
becoming  than  in  a  beautiful  woman. ' ' 

At  that  minute  his  hold  on  me  snapped.  Be 
lieving  him  honest,  he  had  me  kiboshed— seeing 
that  expression,  which,  I  suppose,  he  did  n't 
think  worth  while  hiding  from  a  gawky  kid— I 

168 


Enter  Brother  Belknap 

was  my  own  man  again,  hating  him  and  ready 
for  war  with  him,  in  a  blaze.  Too  young  to  un 
derstand  much  about  love-affairs  and  the  like 
of  that,  I  still  knew  those  eyes,  that  had  shifted 
in  a  second  from  pompous  piety  to  cunning, 
meant  no  good  to  Mary. 

"I  don't  know  about  humility,"  says  I,  "but 
I  '11  go  bail  for  Mary's  honesty."  I  laid  my 
hand  on  hers  as  I  spoke.  Funny  that  I  did  that 
and  spoke  as  I  did.  It  came  to  me  at  once, 
without  thinking— -like  I  'd  been  a  dog  and 
bristled  at  him  for  a  sure-enough  tiger. 

Mary  was  n't  the  kind  to  go  back  on  a  friend 
in  any  company.  She  put  her  other  hand  on 
mine  and  said:  "That  's  the  nicest  thing  you 
could  say,  Will." 

Mr.  Belknap  did  n't  like  it.  Pie  swung 
around  as  if  he  found  me  worth  more  attention 
than  at  first,  and  when  our  eyes  met  he  saw  I 
was  on  to  him,  bigger  than  a  wolf.  All  he 
changed  was  a  quick  tightening  of  the  lips. 
We  looked  at  each  other-  steady.  lie  ought 
169 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

to  have  showed  uneasiness,  consarn  him,  but  he 
did  n't.  Instead  he  smiled,  like  I  was  amusing. 
I  loved  him  horrible  for  that— me  and  my 
steeple  hat  and  sash  to  be  amusing ! 

"You  have  a  most  impulsive  nature,  Mr. 
Saunders, "  says  he. 

I  wanted  to  tell  him  he  was  entirely  correct, 
and  that  I  'd  like  to  chase  two  rascals  the  same 
day.  I  had  sense  enough  not  to,  but  said : 

"I  'm  not  ashamed  to  own  it— particularly 
where  Mary  's  concerned. ' ' 

"Ah!"  he  says,  raising  his  eyebrows,  "you 
are  old  friends?" 

"Not  so  very  old,"  says  Mary.  "That  seems 
cold— we  're  very  warm,  young  friends." 

"It  is  pleasant  for  the  young  to  have 
friends,"  says  he. 

"That  's  hardly  as  surprising  a  remark  as 
your  face  led  me  to  expect,"  says  I.  "It  's 
pleasant  for  anybody  to  have  friends." 

It  was  his  turn  not  to  be  overjoyed.  I  hid 
nay  real  meaning  under  a  lively  manner  for 
170 


Enter  Brother  Belknap 

Mary's  benefit,  and  while  perhaps  she  did  n't 
like  my  being  quite  so  frivolous  to  the  over 
powering  Mr.  Belknap,  she  saw  no  harm  in 
the  speech.  He  did,  though. 

"Am  I  to  count  you  among  my  friends?" 
says  he. 

"Any  friend  of  Mary's  is  a  friend  of  mine," 
I  answered.  He  took.  "  Then  that  is  assured, " 
he  says,  with  his  smoothest  smile. 

We  all  waited. 

"Ah,  Youth!"  says  Mr.  Belknap,  with  a 
look  at  Mary,  and  an  explaining,  indulgent 
smile  at  me.  "How  heartening  it  is  to  see  its 
readiness,  its  resource  in  the  untried  years! 
liejoice  in  your  youth  and  strength,  my  young- 
friend!— as  for  me—  '  he  stopped  and  looked 
so  grave  he  near  fooled  me  again.  "I  am 
worn  down  so  I  barely  believe  in  hope.  My 
poor,  commonplace  ambitions,  my  dull  idea  of 
duty  puts  me  out  of  the  pale  of  friendship 
entirely— I  have  nothing  pleasant  to  offer  my 
friend. ' ' 

171 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

' '  Oh,  no !  Mr.  Belknap ! ' '  says  Mary.  * '  How 
can  you  speak  like  that!  With  your  great 
work— how  can  you  call  it  dull?  I  'm  sure  it 
is  a  high  privilege  to  be  listed  with  your 
friends ! ' ' 

I  felt  a  chill  go  over  me— the  whole  business 
was  tricky,  stagy ;  of  a  piece  with  the  highfa- 
lutin  talk.  Belknap  was  no  old  man,  not  a  day 
over  forty,  and  powerful  as  a  bull,  by  the  look 
of  him,  yet  the  tone  of  his  voice,  the  air  he 
threw  around  it,  made  him  the  sole  and  lonely 
survivor  of  a  great  misfortune,  without  a  help 
ing  hand  at  time  of  need. 

I  felt  mad  and  disgusted  with  Mary  for  be 
ing  taken  in.  I  had  yet  to  learn  that  even  the 
best  of  women  are  easy  worked  through  the 
medium  of  making  'em  feel  they  are  the  sup 
port  of  a  big  man.  They  '11  take  his  word  for 
his  size,  and  swallow  almost  anything  for  the 
fun  of  supporting  him.  Saxton  made  the  great 
mistake  of  admitting  his  foolishnesses  to  be 
foolish,  and  swearing  at  'em;  he  should  have 
172 


Enter  Brother  Belknap 

sadly  regretted  them  as  accidents.  A  woman 
has  to  learn  a  heap  before  she  can  appreciate  a 
thoroughly  honest  man.  There  is  a  poetry  in 
being  honest,  but  like  some  kinds  of  music,  it 
takes  a  highly  educated  person  to  enjoy  it. 
Sing  to  the  girls  in  a  sweet  and  melancholy 
voice  about  a  flower  from  your  angel  mother's 
grave,  and  most  of  'em  will  forget  you  never 
contributed  a  cent  to  the  angel  mother's  sup 
port—and  it  ain't  that  they  like  honesty  the 
less,  but  romance  the  more,  as  the  feller  said 
about  Julius  Caesar.  But  when  a  woman  like 
Mary  does  get  her  bearings  she  has  'em  for 
keeps. 

Now  Sax  was  a  durned  sight  more  romantic 
really  than  this  black-coated  play-actor,  but 
he  would  insist  on  stripping  things  to  the 
bones,  and  the  sight  of  the  skeleton— good, 
honest,  flyaway  man  frame  that  it  was  — scart 
Mary. 

It  came  across  me  bitter  that  she  looked  at 
Brother  Belknap  the  way  she  did.  T  got  up. 

173 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

"I  must  go,"  I  says. 

"Why,  Will!  won't  you  stay  to  supper? 
I  thought  you  surely  would." 

"No,"  I  says,  "I  Ve  got  another  friend  here 
it  's  time  to  remember— I  '11  take  supper  with 
Arthur  Saxton." 

Mary  looked  very  confused  and  bothered. 
Belknap  shot  his  eyes  from  her  to  me  and  back 
again,  learning  all  he  could  from  our  faces. 
And  in  a  twinkle  I  knew  that  he  was  the  cause, 
through  lies  or  some  kind  of  devilry,  of  the 
coolness  between  Mary  and  Arthur  Saxton. 

The  blood  went  to  the  top  of  my  head. 

"Good-by,  Mr.  Belknap,"  I  says,  "we  '11 
meet  again." 

' '  I  most  certainly  hope  so, ' '  says  he,  bowing 
and  smiling  most  polite. 

"You  keep  that  hope  green,  and  not  let  it 
get  away  from  you  like  the  rest  of  'em,  and  it 
sure  will  happen, ' '  says  I.  I  turned  and  looked 
hard  at  Mary.  "Have  you  any  message  for 
Arthur?"  I  asked  her. 

174 


Enter  Brother  Belknap 

She  bit  her  lips,  and  glanced  at  Belknap. 
"No,"  says  she,  short,  "I  have  no  message 
for  Mr.  Saxton." 

"Too  bad,"  says  I.  "He  was  a  good  friend 
of  yours."  With  that  I  turned  and  stalked  off. 
She  followed  me,  and  caught  me  gently  by  the 
sleeve. 

"You  're  not  angry  at  me,  Will?  I  'm  all 
alone  here,  you  know." 

I  had  it  hot  on  my  tongue  to  tell  her  I  was 
angry  plenty,  but  it  crossed  my  mind  how  that 
would  play  into  Belknap 's  hand,  whatever 
scheme  he  was  working,  for  Mary  would  n't 
stand  too  much  from  anybody ;  so,  with  an  un 
accountable  rush  of  sense  to  the  brain,  I  said : 

"Xot  angry,  Mary,  but  jarred,  to  see  you  go 
back  on  a  friend. ' ' 

"Will,  you  don't  understand!  It  is  not  I 
who  have  gone  back— who  have  been  un 
friendly  to  Mr.  Saxton,  it  is  he  who  lias  put  it 
out  of  my  power  to  be  his  friend— I  can't  even 
tell  you— you  must  believe  me." 

175 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

"Did  he  tell  you  this?"  I  asked  her. 

'  *  No, ' '  she  said. 

"Well,  until  he  does,  I  'd  as  soon  believe 
Arthur  as  Mr.  Belknap." 

"Mr.  Belknap!  How  did  you  know— why, 
what  do  you  mean,  Will  ? ' ' 

"I  mean  that  I  don't  like  Belknap  a  little 
bit,"  said  I  most  unwisely.  "And  I  do  like 
you  and  Saxton." 

"You  don't  know  Mr.  Belknap,  and  you  are 
very  unreasonable,"  she  said,  getting  warm. 

"Unreasonable  enough  to  be  afire  all  over 
at  the  thought  of  any  one  cheating  you,  Mary 
—will  you  excuse  that?" 

I  held  out  my  hand,  but  she  gave  me  a  hug. 
"I  'm  not  going  to  pretend  to  be  angry  at  you, 
for  I  can't,"  she  said.  "  'You  do  not  love  me 
—no?  So  kiss  me  good-by,  and  go !'  One  min 
ute,  Will,  may  I  speak  to  you  as  if  you  really 
were  my  brother?" 

"I  should  say  you  could." 

"Well,  then,  will  you  promise  me  that  in 
176 


Enter  Brother  Belknap 

this  place  you  will  do  nothing,  nor  go  anywhere 
witli  Arth— with  any  one  that  would  make  me 
ashamed  to  treat  you  as  I.  do!  Will  you  keep 
yourself  the  same  sweet,  true-hearted  boy  I 
have  known,  for  your  mother's  sake,  and  for 
my  sake!" 

Her  eyes  had  filled  with  tears.  I  'd  have 
promised  to  sit  quietly  on  a  ton  of  dynamite 
until  it  went  off — and  kept  my  word  at  that. 

"I  promise,  Mary,"  says  I. 

"Will,  boy,  I  love  you,"  she  said,  "and  I 
love  you  because  there  's  nothing  silly  in  that 
honest  red  head  of  yours  to  misunderstand  me. 
I  want  to  be  your  dear  sister— and  to  think 
that  you  might,  too—  She  broke  off,  and  the 
tears  overflowed. 

Looking  at  her,  a  hard  suspicion  of  Saxton 
jolted  me.  I  did  n't  know  a  great  deal  of  the 
crooked  side,  but,  of  course,  T  had  a  glimmer, 
and  it  struck  me  that  if  he  had  been  cutting  up 
bad,  when  he  pretended  to  care  for  this  girl,  he 
needed  killing. 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

"Tell  me,  Mary,"  I  asked  her,  "has  Ar 
thur-" 

"Hush,  Will— I  can  tell  you  nothing.  You 
must  see  with  your  own  eyes.  And  here  's  a 
kiss  for  your  promise— which  will  be  kept! 
And  to-morrow  at  three  you  're  to  be  here 
again. ' ' 

And  off  I  goes  up  the  road  sitting  very 
straight,  and  I  tell  you,  if  it  had  n't  been  for 
the  mean  suspicion  of  Saxton,  what  with  the 
mouse-colored  horse  waving  his  cream  mane 
and  tail,  my  new  steeple  hat,  the  sash  with  a 
gun  and  machete  in  it,  the  spurs  jingling,  the 
memory  of  having  chased  a  fierce  road-agent 
to  a  finish,  and  the  kiss  of  the  most  beautiful 
woman  in  the  world  on  my  lips,  I  'd  been  a 
medium  well-feeling  sort  of  boy.  I  guess  my 
anxiety  about  Saxton  did  n't  quite  succeed  in 
drowning  the  other,  neither.  You  can't  expect 
too  much  of  scant  eighteen. 


178 


' '  YOUR  LIFE,  IF  YOU  HURT  HIM  ! ' ' 

I  HAD  N  'T  thought  to  ask  what  Saxton  was 
at  in  a  business  way.    I  did  n't  know  where 
to  find  him ;  there  was  no  use  in  going  back,  so 
I  rode  at  random  through  the  streets. 

As  I  swung  into  a  dark  alley  I  came  upon  a 
fierce  and  quiet  little  fight.  Two  men  set  upon 
a  third,  who  had  his  back  against  the  wall.  The 
knives  flashed,  they  ducked,  parried,  got  away, 
cut  and  come  again  with  a  quickness  and  a  sav- 
ageness  that  lifted  my  hair.  Jeeminy !  There 
was  spirit  in  that  row!  And  not  a  sound  ex 
cept  the  soft  sliding  of  feet  and  the  noise  of 
blows.  They  'd  all  been  touched,  too;  red 
showed  here  and  there  on  them,  as  well  as  on 
the  stones. 

179 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

While  I  looked  the  one  man  slipped  and  came 
down  on  his  back,  striking  his  head  and  his 
right  elbow,  the  knife  flying  out  of  his  hand. 

I  breathed  quicker— some  fights  make  you 
feel  warlike— and  when  I  see  the  other  two  dive 
right  at  the  man,  down  and  helpless,  I  broke 
the  silence  and  the  peace  at  one  and  the  same 
instant.  The  mouse-colored  horse  butted  a 
lad  sailing  down  the  alley.  I  grabbed  the  other 
up  on  the  saddle  and  cuffed  him  with  all  my 
.heart. 

"  You  dirty  Mut!"  says  I.  "Two  of  you 
on  one  man!  Have  something  with  me,"  and 
I  slapped  his  black  face  to  a  blister.  He  tried 
to  get  at  me  with  the  knife,  but  a  pinch  on  the 
neck  loosened  his  grip. 

The  feller  the  little  horse  rammed  got  on  his 
feet,  looking  like  he  was  going  to  return  for  a 
minute ;  it  was  me  against  the  two.  I  crowded 
my  victim  down  against  the  saddle  with  my  left 
hand— Lord !  how  he  squawked !— and  drew  my 
gun  with  the  right.  "Take  either  way  that 

180 


"Your  Life,  if  You  Hurt  Him!" 

suits  you,"  says  I.  The  bucko  did  n't  sabe 
English,  maybe,  but  a  forty-four  gun  is  easy 
translated  in  any  language.  He  chose  the 
other  end  of  the  alley. 

The  feller  that  fell  got  on  his  feet.  He  was 
a  good-looking  chap,  in  spite  of  a  big  scar 
across  his  face  and  the  careless  way  his  white 
clothes  were  daubed  with  red. 

1 ' MusMsimas  gracias,  Serior, "  says  he, 
"me  alegro  muclio  de  ver  a  listed." 

"Don't  mention  it,"  says  I.  "I  understand 
a  little  Spanish,  but  I  speak  English.  I 
would  n't  have  cut  in  if  they  had  n't  played  it 
crooked  on  you— here  's  your  boy,  not  dam 
aged  much,  if  you  want  to  have  it  out. ' ' 

"I  spike  Anglish  veree  splendidlee, "  says 
he,  "I  th-thank  ju.  Eef  you  weel  so  kindly 
han'  me  dthat  man,  I  keel  heem." 

"Holy  Christmas!"  says  I— he  asked  as  cool 
as  he  would  a  light  for  his  cigar— "What  do 
you  mean?  Just  stick  him  ? ' ' 

"Certamente,"  says  he,  "he  ees  no  good." 

183 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

I  chucked  my  victim  as  far  as  I  could  throw 
him.  ' '  Run,  you  fool ! "  I  says,  and  he  scuttled 
out  of  that  like  a  jack-rabbit. 

He  was  gone  before  my  friend  could  start 
after  him.  I  got  the  full  blast  of  the  disap 
pointment. 

"  I  do  not  quite  understand,  Seiior, ' '  says  he, 
with  his  hand  on  his  knife. 

"Hold!"  says  I,  "you  Ve  no  call  to  jump 
me— I  can't  stand  for  a  man  being  slit  in  cold 
blood— no  offense  meant." 

'•'I  forget  your  service,"  says  he.  "Pardon 
—here  ees  my  han '. ' '  "We  shook  hands.  ' l  But 
you  have  made  the  foolish  thing,"  he  says. 
"There  ees  a  man  who  ees  to  be  keeled  dead, 
and  you  let  heern  go— that  ees  more  foolish  as 
to  let  the  Fer-de-lance  free." 

"Well,  I  know,"  says  I,  "I  suppose  you  're 
right,  but  my  ideas  ain't  quite  foreign  enough 
yet." 

He  smiled.  "Your  largeness  made  me  mis 
take,  ' '  says  he.  l '  I  see  you  are  a  gentleman  not 
184 


"Your  Life,  if  You  Hurt  Him!' 

of  so  many  years,  but  of  the  heart  strong 
and  the  arm  stronger— you  play  with  that 
man  —  chuckee  —  chuckee  —  chuckee  —  like  hees 
mother.  Eet  was  lovelee.  May  I  ask  the 
name!" 

"William  De  La  Tour  Saunders,"  says  I, 
"commonly  called  Bill." 

"Ah,  Beel!"  says  he,  "I  r-r-remember. 
Here  is  Antonio  Orinez— your  frien'  when  you 
wish." 

"Well,  Mr.  Orinez,"  says  I,  "had  n't  we  bet 
ter  be  walking  along?  You  're  bleeding  pretty 
free." 

"Ta!"  says  he,  shrugging  his  shoulders. 
"I  am  used  to  eet— still,  I  go.  Thees  ees  not 
a  healthy  land  for  me." 

"What  was  the  row  about?"  I  asked,  my 
kid  curiosity  coming  up. 

"I  cannot  tell  even  my  best  frien',"  he  an 
swers,  smiling  so  pleasant  there  was  no  injury. 
" Quiere  poquito  dc  aguardiente?" 

' l  No, ' '  I  says,  ' '  I  'm  not  drinking  at  present 

185 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

—it  's  a  promise  I  made."  (Ob,  the  vanity  of 
a  boy ! )  * t  But  I  '11  trot  along  witb  you. ' ' 

He  shook  his  head.  ' '  Do  not, ' '  he  says, ' '  be 
lieve  me,  I  have  reason— can  I  do  you  any 
service,  now?" 

I  was  a  little  anxious  to  get  on  my  own  busi 
ness.  The  lull  from  the  fight  had  come  in  the 
shape  of  a  seasick  feeling. 

"Do  you  know  a  man  by  the  name  of  Sax- 
ton  ? "  I  inquired. 

He  gave  me  a  quick  look— a  friendly  look, 
"Arthur  Saxton— tall— grande— play  the  vio- 
leenlike  thedavil!" 

"That  'shim." 

1 '  Around  that  corner,  not  far,  on  thees  side, ' ' 
waving  his  left  hand,  "you  see  the  name— eet 
ees  a  es-store  for  food." 

I  was  surprised  enough  to  find  that  Sax  had 
opened  a  grocery  store. 

* '  Thanks, ' '  says  I,  and  swung  in  the  saddle. 

Orifiez  raised  a  hand,  playful. 

' '  Geeve  me  some  other  ho-r-r-r-se ! ' '  says  he. 

186 


"Your  Life,  if  You  Hurt  Him!" 

' '  Bin '  opp  my  wounds ! "  lie  laughed.  ' '  By-by, 
Beel,  r-remember  me,  as  I  shall  remember  ju!" 

"Good-by,  Mr.  Orinez,"  says  I.  He  called 
after  me,  "Eef  you  need  a  frien',  there  is 
Orinez!" 

"Same  to  you,  old  man!"  I  says,  and  swings 
around  the  corner. 

Saxton  was  working  outside  the  store,  over 
seeing  the  unloading  of  some  wagons.  It  was 
a  large  store,  with  a  big  stock,  and  Sax  was 
busy  as  a  hound-pup  at  a  rabbit-hole.  I  rubbed 
my  eyes.  Somehow  the  last  tiling  I  expected 
to  see  Sax  was  a  storekeeper.  I  slipped  up 
and  put  my  hands  on  his  shoulders  to  surprise 
him.  It  surprised  him  all  right.  I  felt  the 
muscles  jump  under  the  coat,  although  he  stood 
still  enough,  and  he  whirled  on  me  with  an  ugly 
look  in  his  eye. 

I  think,  perhaps,  of  all  the  unpleasant  posi 
tions  a  man  can  get  himself  into,  that  of  a  play 
ful  friendly  fit  gone  wrong  will  bring  the  sweat 
out  the  quickest— you  do  feel  such  a  fool! 

187 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

"Beg  your  pardon,  Arthur,"  says  I,  fairly 
cool,  as  really  I  had  n't  done  anything  for  him 
to  get  so  wrathy  about. 

But  he  got  the  best  of  himself  at  once,  and 
the  old,  kind  smile  came,  taking  out  the  lines 
that  changed  his  face  so. 

"What  are  you  talking  about?"  says  he, 
playful  in  his  turn— forced  playful,  painful  to 
see.  He  gave  me  a  slap  on  the  back  and  I  let 
her  flicker  at  that— always  willing  to  take  a 
friend's  intentions  rather  than  the  results.  I 
never  went  into  friendship  as  a  money-making 
business. 

"I  thought  I  startled  you,"  I  said.  He 
laughed  loud,  so  loud  that  I  looked  at  him  and 
backed  away  a  little.  ' '  Startled  me ! "  he  says. 
"What  nonsense!  When  did  you  come  in? 
How  do  you  like  your  job?  Going  to  stay 
long?" 

He  fired  these  questions  at  me  as  fast  as  He 
could  talk.  I,  dumb-struck,  answered  some 
how,  while  I  felt  around  for  something  to  think 
with. 

188 


"Your  Life,  if  You  Hurt  Him!' 

He  was  here  and  there  and  all  over,  doing 
everything  with  the  same  fever-hurry.  Pop 
ping  a  string  of  questions  at  me  and  away 
before  I  could  answer  the  half  of  them,  as  if 
he  could  n't  hold  his  mind  to  one  thing  more 
than  a  minute— and  this  was  Arthur  Saxton! 

Part  of  my  mind  talked  to  him,  part  wrastled 
with  Mary's  hints  and  the  other  part  kept  up 
a  wondering  why  and  what,  for  I  felt  for  that 
man  a  whole-hearted  kid's  worship. 

A  sack  of  flour  fell  from  the  wagon  and  split. 
Instantly  Sax  broke  out  into  a  fit  of  curs 
ing.  I  never  heard  anything  like  it.  He  cursed 
the  flour,  the  man  that  dropped  it,  Panama,  the 
business,  and  everything  above  and  below,  his 
eyes  two  balls  of  wild-fire. 

The  man  jumped  back  scared.  Sax's  jaws 
worked  hard ;  he  got  back  an  outside  appear 
ance  of  humanity. 

"This  heat  makes  me  irritable,  Bill,"  he 
said.  "Besides,  there  's  lots  of  annoyance  in 
a  new  business." 

"Sure,"  says  I.  I  saw  the  flour  sack  was 
189 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

only  an  excuse— a  little  hole  to  let  out 
the  strain.  A  person's  wits  will  outfoot  his 
judgment  sometimes.  I  had  no  experi 
ence  to  guide  me,  yet  I  knew  Saxton  needed 
humoring. 

I  Ve  heard  people  say  that  things— like 
liquor,  for  instance— could  n't  get  the  best  of 
such  and  such  a  man,  because  he  was  strong- 
willed.  What  kind  of  argument  is  that !  Sup 
pose  he  wants  to  drink.  Ain't  his  strong  will 
going  to  make  him  drink  just  that  much  harder, 
and  be  that  much  harder  to  turn  back,  than  a 
man  with  a  putty  spine!  The  only  backbone 
some  men  has  is  what  their  neighbors  think. 
Them  you  can  handle.  But  the  man  that  rules 
himself  generally  finds  it  quite  different  from 
being  the  lady  boss  of  an  old  woman's  home. 
Just  because  he  's  fit  to  rule,  he  '11  rebel,  and 
he  '11  scrap  with  himself  till  they  put  a  stone 
up,  marking  the  place  of  a  drawn  battle.  But 
the  neighbors  won't  know  it.  They  '11  envy 
him  the  dead  easy  time  he  had,  or  get  mad 
IQO 


"Your  Life,  if  You  Hurt  Him!' 

when  lie  does  something  foolish— loses  one  heat 
out  of  many  that  the  neighbors  did  n't  even 
dare  to  run— and  gossip  over  him.  "Who  'd 
think  a  man  that  's  lived  as  good  a  life  as  Mr. 
Smith  would,"  and  so  forth.  But  you  can't 
blame  the  neighbors  neither.  Most  people  rea 
sonably  prefer  peace  to  war,  and  with  a  man 
like  Sax  it  's  war  most  of  the  time.  You  have 
to  care  a  heap  to  stay  with  him. 

Well,  he  was  in  a  bad  way  for  sure.  He 
talked  fast— often  not  finishing  what  he  had  to 
say.  He  laughed  a  great  deal,  too,  and  when 
the  laugh  passed  and  the  dreary  look  came  on 
his  face  again,  it  was  enough  to  make  you 
shiver. 

Presently  a  nice  little  man  came  up— a  Span 
iard  and  a  gentleman. 

From  the  time  I  took  hold  of  his  hand  I  felt 
more  cheerful.  You  knew  by  his  eye  he  under 
stood  things. 

Sax  introduced  him  as  an  old  friend  and  as 
his  partner  in  the  business.  "Perez  puts  up 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

the  money  and  the  experience, ' '  says  he,  * '  and 
I  put  up  a  bold  front. ' ' 

"After  I  've  begged  you  not  to  speak  in  that 
way!"  says  Perez,  smiling,  but  reproachful. 

"I  'm  not  sailing  under  false  colors,"  says 
Sax,  sharp.  ' '  You  Ve  made  an  asylum  for  an 
empty  head— you  '11  have  to  listen  to  it." 

Perez  dropped  the  subject  at  once. 

The  Spaniard  turned  to  me  and  asked  me 
most  courteously  about  my  aims  in  the  country. 
We  were  talking  along  when  Saxton  inter 
rupted  us.  "We  '11  never  get  enough  to  drink 
this  way, ' '  says  he ;  "  come  into  the  office. ' ' 

We  went  back  into  the  little  room  where 
they  entertained  the  big  customers.  Saxton 
called  a  boy  and  ordered  brandy.  When  it 
came  he  grabbed  the  bottle  feverishly.  As  he 
did  so,  Perez  glanced  at  me.  We  understood 
each  other. 

Sax  could  n't  drink  until  we  joined  him— 
habit  again— how  she  pulls!  He  wanted  that 
drink.  It  was  the  one  thing  he  did  want  in  the 
192 


"Your  Life,  if  You  Hurt  Him!' 

world,  yet  there  lie  waited  while  we  fooled 
away  as  much  time  as  we  could. 

''Well,  here  's  regards!"  he  said  at  last,  and 
his  lower  jaw  trembled  with  eagerness.  Perez 
drank  and  I  made  the  motions. 

"That  's  the  stuff!"  says  Sax,  with  a  cheap 
swagger  that  knocked  me  harder  than  anything 
I  'd  seen  so  far.  "The  good  old  truck  that  you 
Spaniards  mollify  under  the  name  of  aguar 
diente  is  the  solution  of  all  problems,  Perez." 

"Si,  si,  Seiior?"  says  Perez.  "It  is  a  great 
solvent."  He  stirred  the  red  sugar  in  the  bot 
tom  of  his  glass.  ' i  I  have  seen  it  dissolve  many 
a  good  manhood— like  that." 

"None  of  your  friends,  I  hope?"  sneers 
Sax. 

"I  hope  not." 

Saxton  looked  at  him  a  minute ;  a  hundred 
different  fits  showed  in  his  eye,  but  the  hurry 
of  his  mind  let  none  stay  long  enough  for  ac 
tion. 

The  shadow  settled  on  him  again.    I  never 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

in  my  life  saw  more  misery  in  a  human  face, 
and  to  save  me  I  could  n't  tell  you  where  the 
expression  came  from,  because  the  man  kept 
his  muscles  in  an  iron  grip.  There  was  n't 
a  droop  of  the  mouth,  nor  a  line  in  the  fore 
head,  nor  a  twitch  of  the  eye— it  was  just 
powerful  enough  to  make  itself  felt,  without 
signs. 

He  came  back  again  with  a  snap. 

"Why,  you  're  not  drinking,  Bill!"  says  he, 
noticing  my  glass.  It  was  not  Arthur  Saxton, 
to  urge  a  boy  to  drink. 

"No,"  I  says,  easy,  "I  'm  not  used  to  tropi 
cal  beverages— I  expect  to  find  it  full  of  red 
peppers.  Lord,  what  a  dose  I  got  in  my  first 
chile  con  came—" 

He  cut  into  my  attempt  at  a  diversion. 

"Why  don't  you  drink!"  he  asked. 

"Because  I  promised  Mary  not  to." 

The  mention  of  the  name  was  too  much.  He 
took  a  quick  breath. 

"Oh,  I  would  n't  mind  that,"  he  says,  light 
194 


"Your  Life,  if  You  Hurt  Him!'1 

enough  on  the  outside,  but  beginning  to  heat  up 
inside  again. 

"I.  mind  my  word,"  I  answered. 

Perez  looked  quickly  across  at  me  and 
smiled. 

"She  makes  mistakes  like  the  rest  of  us," 
says  Saxton. 

"She  makes  mistakes,"  says  I,  "but  not  like 
the  rest  of  us." 

Perez  stretched  out  his  hand.  "I  am  again 
glad  to  have  met  Mr.  Saunders, "  he  said. 

Sax  looked  from  one  to  the  other  of  us.  Sud 
denly  he  sprang  up,  giving  the  table  such  a 
push  it  landed  on  its  back  against  the  wall. 
"I  hate  to  be  the  only  blackguard  in  the 
party,"  he  said,  and  stood  furious,  panting. 

Perez  slipped  to  me  and  whispered,  "Mind 
him  not— for  two  weeks,  day  and  night, 
brandy,  brandy,  brandy— it  lias  not  drunken 
him— but  the  man  is  mad." 

"What  are  you  whispering  about?"  de 
manded  Sax,  so  savagely  I  got  ready  for  ac- 

195 


Plain  Marv  Smith 


j 


tion.  "If  you  Ve  anything  to  say  about  me, 
let  me  hear  it— I  yearn  for  interesting  news." 
He  had  his  fist  drawn  back  as  he  came  up  to 
Perez. 

The  little  man 's  face  went  white.  ' '  Arthur, ' ' 
he  said,  "would  you  strike  me?" 

"I  'd  strike  any  one— any  dirty  sneak  who  'd 
talk  about  me  behind  my  back. ' ' 

"Arthur,"  said  Perez,  slowly,  "when  I  was 
a  poor,  sickly,  sad  little  boy  at  a  Northern 
school  I  had  a  friend  who  protected  me,  who 
took  many  a  blow  for  my  sake ;  when  I  was  a 
young  man,  sick  with  la  viruela,  I  had  a  friend 
who  risked  his  life  to  save  mine;  as  an  older 
man,  I  have  a  friend  who  can  take  my  life  if 
he  wishes— strike." 

And  so  help  me!  He  would  have  struck! 
Never  tell  me  a  man  is  this  and  that.  A  man  is 
everything.  In  his  right  mind,  nothing  an 
Apache  invented  would  have  forced  Arthur 
Saxton  to  do  such  a  thing— no  fear  on  earth, 
nor  no  profit  on  earth  would  have  tempted 
196 


"Your  Life,  if  You  Hurt  Him!' 

him  for  an  instant.     But  now  he  would  have 
struck. 

I  grabbed  his  wrist. 

' '  You  fool ! "  I  cried, ' '  what  are  you  doing  1 ' ' 
He  clipped  me  bang  in  the  eye.  Saxton  was  a 
strong  man,  weakened  by  whisky.  I  was  twice 
as  strong  and  braced  with  rage. 

I  whirled  him  around  and  slammed  him  on 
the  floor. 

Something  cold  pressed  against  my  temple. 
It  was  a  revolver  in  the  hands  of  Perez. 
''Your  life  for  it,  if  you  hurt  him,"  said  he. 

For  a  second,  I  meant  to  quit  that  place  in 
disgust.  Then  the  size  of  it  took  hold  of  me. 
It  does  n't  matter  whether  a  thing  is  wise  or 
not— in  fact,  you  never  can  tell  whether  a  thing 
is  wise  or  not— but  if  it  has  a  size  to  it,  it  suits 
me. 

I  thought  for  a  minute.  There  we  stood,  me 
holding  Saxton,  Perez  holding  me— just  that 
little,  cold  touch,  you  'd  think  might  be  pleas 
ant  on  a  hot  day. 

197 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

" I  hope  you  ain't  nervous,  Mr.  Perez!"  says 
I,  to  gain  time. 

''What?"  says  he,  kind  of  befuzzled.  "No, 
I  am  not  nervous. ' ' 

' '  That  's  right, ' '  says  I,  hearty.  ' '  Don 't  try 
to  see  how  hard  that  trigger  pulls,  or  you  '11 
disturb  my  thoughts."  Then  I  made  up  my 
mind. 

' ' Saxton, ' '  says  I,  "if  there  's  a  remnant  in 
you  of  the  man  you  once  was,  get  your  friend 
to  leave,  and  take  the  licking  you  deserve." 

I  looked  down  at  him— the  man  was  back 
again !  Talk  about  your  moral  suasion,  I  tell 
you  there  's  a  time  when  only  one  thing  counts. 
I  'd  done  more  for  Arthur  Saxton  by  slamming 
him  down  on  the  floor  than  the  doctors  and 
preachers  could  have  brought  about  in  ten 
years.  He  went  down  hard,  mind  you.  Yes, 
sir,  there  was  the  old  Saxton,  with  his  forehead 
frowned  up  because  his  head  hurt,  but  the  old, 
kindly,  funny  little  smile  on  his  lips. 

"Perez,"  he  said,  "run  away  and  let  the  bad 
198 


"Your  Life,  if  You  Hurt  Him!" 

little  boy  get  his  spanking— although,  Bill," 
he  went  on,  "  if  it  's  reformation  you  're  after, 
I  don 't  need  it. ' '  He  laughed  up  at  me.  ' '  You 
think  I  'm  trying  to  dodge  payment,  but,  so 
help  me,  I  'm  not,  Billy  boy. ' ' 

To  see  him  like  that,  his  laughing  self  again, 
after  the  nightmare  we  'd  just  been  through, 
set  me  to  sniveling— darn  it,  I  was  excited  and 
only  a  kid,  but  I  cried— yes,  I  cried.  And 
Perez,  he  cried. 

"N-nice  way  for  you  to  act,"  says  I,  "and 
s-spoil  all  a  poor  boy  's  got  to  respect." 

The  awful  slush  of  that  struck  us  all,  and  we 
broke  out  into  a  laugh  together— a  wibbly  kind 
of  laugh,  but  it  served. 

Arthur  got  up  and  dusted  his  clothes.  He 
shook  fearfully.  I  never  saw  a  man  in  worse 
shape  and  still  be  able  to  stand.  Two  weeks 
of  a  steady  diet  of  French  brandy  on  top  of 
trouble  will  put  a  man  outside  the  ordinary 
run,  or  inside  his  long  home. 

It  was  fine,  the  way  he  gathered  himself. 
I99 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

He  brought  something  like  what  he  ought  to 
be  out  of  the  wreck  in  two  minutes. 

"Now,"  he  says  steady,  "I  owe  you  fellows 
something— I  owe  you  a  great  deal,  Perez— 
I  'd  started  to  finish  on  the  alcohol  route.  I 
don't  like  the  company  I  keep.  If  I  'm  going 
to  die  I  '11  die  with  a  better  man  than  you 
stopped,  Bill.  In  fact,  I  think  my  kid  fit  is  over. 
I  reckon  I  '11  try  to  live  like  a  man,  and  as  a 
start  I  'm  going  to  tell  you  both  what  ails  me— 
to  have  it  out  for  once.  So  help  me,  it  is  n't 
for  myself —it  's  for  you,  Henry.  You  've  in 
vested  time  and  money  in  me,  and  you  sha'n't 
lose  it.  If  you  know  what  you  're  up  against, 
you  may  be  able  to  help  me  help  myself.  I  'm 
sick  of  myself.  All  my  life  I  have  kept  my 
mouth  shut,  out  of  a  foolish  pride.  The  little 
sacrifice  will  be  something  on  the  altar  of 
friendship,  Henry,  old  man.  Come  along  to 
my  room." 


2OO 


XI 


SAXTON'S  STORY 

WE  seated  ourselves  around  the  table  in 
Saxton's  bedroom. 

"Perez,"  said  Saxton,  "you  know  from  the 
beginning  the  boy  and  girl  love  affair  between 
me  and  Mary  Smith.  It  was  no  small  thing  for 
me.  I  cared  then  and  I  care  now.  I  think  the 
one  thing  which  stood  between  Mary  and  my 
self  as  the  greatest  point  of  difference  was  my 
trick  of  stripping  things  to  the  bare  facts.  She 
liked  romance,  whether  fact  or  not ;  I  liked  the 
romance  that  lay  in  fact.  She  cared  for  me— 
that  is  certain,  but  some  reports  when  I  was 
about  nineteen  to  the  effect  that  I  was  raising 
the  devil,  and  had  led  a  weak-headed  fellow 
astray  with  me,  seemed  to  give  the  girl  a  per- 
2OI 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

manent  twist  against  me.  Now  here  's  the 
truth.  In  our  little  town  we  had  a  number  of 
men  who  earned  comfortable  fortunes  and  then 
laid  back.  Their  boys,  with  nothing  to  do  and 
nothing  in  their  heads,  acted  as  one  might  sup 
pose.  They  took  to  drinking  and  gambling, 
not  because  they  were  bad  but  simply  to  pass 
the  time;  the  town  was  dull  enough,  God 
knows.  Pretty  soon  the  wilder  crowd  became 
an  open  scandal.  Among  them  were  some  of 
my  best  friends,  and  I  went  with  'em,  with  as 
sincere  a  desire  to  line  'em  up  with  decency 
again  as  any  long-faced  deacon  in  the  town; 
but  instead  of  spouting  piety,  I  thought  I 
would  play  their  game  until  I  could  get  'em 
to  play  mine,  that  is,  I  took  a  drink  with  'em, 
and  I  played  some  poker  with  'em,  all  the  while 
trying  to  show  the  strongest  head  and  the  most 
checks  when  it  came  to  'cash-up'  in  the  poker 
game.  I  felt  that  if  I  could  beat  'em,  what  I 
said  would  go. 

"There    was    one    mean    scoundrel    in    the 
202 


SaxtorTs  Story 

bunch— a  hypocrite  to  the  marrow.  He  really 
was  to  blame  for  the  worst  outbreaks,  but  he 
pulled  the  long  face  when  among  respectable 
people.  I  wanted  to  get  the  best  of  that  lad. 
If  you  're  going  to  lead  drinking  men  and  gam 
blers,  you  've  got  to  be  the  best  drinker  and  the 
best  card  player  in  the  bunch.  The  rest  were 
empty-headed  boys,  who  'd  have  taken  up  re 
ligion  as  quickly  as  faro  bank,  if  some  one  led 
'em  to  it.  Well,  I  think  T  'd  won  out,  if  my 
friend  the  hypocrite,  who  was  foxy  enough  in 
his  way,  had  n't  back-capped  me,  by  telling  the 
town  the  evil  of  my  ways.  The  first  break  was 
with  my  father.  The  news  came  to  him  care 
fully  prepared.  When  1  tried  to  explain  my 
side,  the  disgusted  incredulity  of  his  face 
stopped  me  almost  before  I  began.  Father 
gave  me  my  choice:  to  leave  his  house  or  to 
leave  the  company  I  kept.  T  cannot  bear  to  be 
doubted.  I  made  a  choice.  I  left  both  the 
house  and  the  company  T  kept.  Father  had 
been  good  to  me ;  knowing  how  he  felt,  I  would 
203 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

not  disgrace  him.    Then  I  made  my  living  with 
my  fiddle. 

' '  Mary  at  first  believed  in  me,  but  they  talked 
her  out  of  it.  If  she  'd  doubted  of  her  own 
mind,  I  would  n't  have  cared  so  much,  but  to 
know  me  as  she  did,  and  then  prefer  the  word 
of  outsiders— well,  I  roared  at  her  like  a 
maniac ;  it  was  much  like  now,  as  sweetly  rea 
sonable  and  all.  No  wonder  the  girl  was 
frightened.  I  have  n't  a  doubt  she  felt  that 
entertaining  an  interest  for  me  was  little  better 
than  criminal.  At  the  same  time  the  interest 
was  there,  and,  like  myself,  she  took  a  middle 
course  by  plunging  with  what  heart  she  could 
into  a  dreary  and  hide-bound  church.  I  drove 
her  to  it,  and  I  paid  the  bill.  If  I  could  bring 
one  half  the  sense  into  my  own  affairs  that  I 
can  into  some  outside  thing,  I  suppose  I  should 
sometime  succeed.  A  little  coaxing,  an  appeal 
for  sympathy,— any  show  of  gentleness  on  my 
part  might  have  brought  her  round.— As  we 
are,  we  are.  I  demanded,  and  here  am  I. 
204 


Saxton's  Story 

"I  made  it  up  with  father  afterwards;  he 
did  n't  understand,  but  he  believed.  You  see  I 
would  n't  take  a  cent  from  him.  He  offered 
me  money,  but  I  said  flat  that  as  I  did  n't 
please  him,  I  would  n't  take  it.  Father 
had  been  a  business  man  all  his  days,  and 
money  had  become  his  measure.  If  I  refused 
money  I  meant  business.  That  's  no  sneer 
—  a  good  old  man  was  my  father.  But  Mary 
stood  me  off.  When  I  'm  not  despairing, 
I  know  she  cares.  I  have  learned  how 
much  conventions  mean  to  a  woman— well, 
I  don't  blame  'em.  I  wish  I  had  a  few 
conventions  against  which  I  could  lean  and 
rest  this  minute.  Then  comes  a  man  named 
Belknap— 

"Why,  I  have  just  met  him,  Saxton,"  said  I. 

"Did  you,  Bill?  I  am  thankful  for  it.  I 
have  gotten  so  my  heart  aches  for  facts  to  back 
me.  What  is  your  judgment  on  the  gentle 
man?" 

"Smooth  as  a  sausage  skin,"  says  I. 
205 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

"All  of  that,"  says  Saxton;  "he  is  one  sub 
tle  scoundrel." 

"But  he  is  n 't  so  hard  to  get  on  to,  neither ! ' ' 

"For  a  man,  no,"  says  Saxton;  "but  Bel- 
knap  has  information  that  you,  nor  Perez,  nor 
I,  nor  any  man  who  is  a  man  has,  and  that  is 
the  difference  between  a  woman 's  thinking  and 
a  man's  thinking.  We  know  a  man  will  swal 
low  all  manner  of  guff  in  politics ;  he  '11  buy  a 
gold  brick  from  a  cheap  blatherskite.  That 
sort  of  thing  is  man's  folly.  I  don't  pretend 
to  understand  women's  follies,  but  Belknap 
does.  He  can  talk  such  nonsense  to  a  seem 
ingly  sensible  woman  that  you  fancy  she  's 
laughing  at  him,  and  behold !  when  you  look  to 
see  the  smile,  you  find  the  lady  in  tears. 

' '  When  he  came  into  the  game  he  was  young. 
He  took  an  instant  interest  in  Mary,  and  at 
once  used  his  smooth  tongue,  and  his  perfect 
knowledge  of  a  woman's  character,  to  win  her. 
He  worked  through  her  vanity,  through  her 
virtues,  and  through  all  the  avenues  his  pecu- 
206 


Saxton's  Story 

liar  intelligence  opened  to  him.  He  gained  her 
attention  from  the  first,  and  now  his  power 
over  her  is  something  horrible  to  me.  Again, 
had  it  not  been  my  own  affair,  how  easily  I 
could  have  beaten  him !  If  only  my  head  and 
not  my  heart  were  in  it— yet,  I  do  not  care  for 
the  game  when  my  heart  is  n't  in  it,  so  where 
I  don't  care,  I  don't  even  try.  This  makes  a 
jolly  life. 

"Our  friend,  Belknap,  has  a  great  work  to 
do,  converting  these  heathen  Catholics  to  the 
Protestant  faith,  for  which  he  has  schools  and 
missions,  and  for  which  also  he  needs  teachers, 
and  later,  a  wife,  so  Mary  leaves  home  for 
here.  Of  course,  he  has  n't  breathed  a  word  of 
anything  but  the  Great  Work,  and  his  lonely 
struggle,  and  queer  as  it  is,  and  scoundrel  that 
he  is,  I  know  he  partly  believes  in  himself. 
Sentimental  advances  would  frighten  her  off. 
He  bides  his  time,  does  Mr.  Spider,  and  lets 
habit  of  mind  crush  out  all  the  girl 's  natural  in 
stincts  until  she  has  no  resource  but  him." 
207 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

1 '  I  thought  you  said  he  was  of  a  deep  under 
standing  in  regard  to  the  women  ? ' '  said  Perez. 

"He  is." 

"And  he  will  suppress  the  natural  feel 
ings?" 

"Yes." 

"Mine  has  been  a  lonely  life,  Arthur,  of  re 
ality,"  said  Perez;  "you  are  my  affection— but 
when  the  Senor  Belknap  has  suppressed  the 
natural  feelings  of  any  woman,  he  has  but  to 
ask,  and  my  store,  and  my  ranches,  and  my  cat 
tle  are  his." 

Saxton  shook  his  head  wearily.  ' '  You  don 't 
know  him,  Enrique. ' ' 

"I  have  interrupt,"  said  Perez;  "pardon!" 

"There  is  this  much  more,"  said  Saxton. 
"On  the  trip  across  I  saw  I  had  regained  some 
of  my  standing  in  Mary's  eyes,  enough,  at  least, 
to  send  me  up  into  cloudland.  My  heart  went 
out  to  every  creature  I  saw,  and  I  certainly  was 
a  fool  not  to  know  I  'd  do  something  idiotic.  I 
did  it.  One  night,  walking  from  the  store,  a 
208 


Saxton's  Story 

woman  stopped  and  spoke  to  me.  Ordinarily 
I  would  have  pushed  on  as  easily  as  might  be, 
but  in  this  woman  a  hint  of  delicacy  still  lin 
gered.  There  was  something  in  her  face  that 
shone  like  the  last  of  day,  in  the  way  she 
carried  herself,  in  the  way  she  held  her  head, 
there  was  still  womanly  pride;  in  short,  she 
was  the  one  out  of  a  thousand  for  whom  there 
is  hope.  She  came  straight  to  me  out  of 
the  crowd,  with  the  same  faith  a  dog  has 
often  shown  me.  That  is  the  kind  of  thing 
against  which  I  am  defenseless,  and  I  am  glad 
of  it.  Her  story  was  short,  plain,  honest.  She 
excused  nothing,  she  made  no  attempt  to  put 
herself  in  a  better  light.  No  man  could  have 
talked  squarer  or  more  to  the  point;  she  was 
tired  of  the  life  she  led,  she  had  an  impulse  to 
change,  she  did  not  know  whether  the  impulse 
would  last  or  not,  she  had  not  a  cent,  but  if  I 
would  help  her  she  would  make  an  effort.  No 
man  with  a  heart  in  his  body  is  going  to  refuse 
an  appeal  like  that.  You  know  I  am  not  quite 

209 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

a  boy  to  be  fooled  by  whining.  I  realized  the 
chances  against  her  lasting  out,  and  so  did  she. 
The  thing  was  genuine,  whatever  the  result. 
It  appeared  to  me  that  to  hand  her  money  as 
you  'd  throw  a  plate  of  cold  fodder  to  a  tramp, 
was  not  just  the  proper  course  of  a  man  who 
thought  of  himself  as  a  gentleman.  Also  I  ad 
mit  that  I  fancied  myself  standing  as  somewhat 
of  a  hero  in  Mary's  eyes.  So  I  treated  my  poor 
new  friend  as  though  she  were  a  decent  woman. 
I  never  preached  at  her,— I  had  had  enough  of 
preaching,— but  simply  gave  her  a  'good  day,' 
and  if  a  kind  word  once  in  a  while  had  any 
weight,  she  got  it.  There  was  nothing  in  all 
this  I  could  not  have  explained  to  Mary  to  my 
own  credit.  I  did  not  like  the  kind  of  thing 
that  woman  stood  for.  She  had  no  attraction 
for  me  in  any  way,  shape,  or  manner,  but  Mr. 
Belknap  saw  his  opportunity.  He  has  this 
town  plastered  with  spies;  your  house  is  no 
safeguard  against  his  meddling.  When  he 
found  out,  he  gave  Mary  a  revised  edition  of 
my  conduct.  I  can  imagine  him  doing  it— his 
2  IO 


Saxton's  Story 

sorrowfully  deploring  my  fall ;  the  insinuations 
more  damaging  than  any  bald  statement;  the 
sighs  and  half-finished  sentences.  He  had  the 
start  and  he  used  it  well.  When  I  next  went  to 
see  Mary  I  got  a  queer  reception ;  among  other 
pleasant  things,  she  said  my  coming  was  an  in 
sult,  and  for  the  soft  answTer  that  turneth  away 
wrath  she  replied  that  I  had  degraded  myself 
beyond  hope,  when  I  asked  her  what  in  the 
world  was  the  matter.  Of  course,  I  went  crazy 
on  the  instant;  the  surprise  of  it  took  away 
what  little  sense  I  had.  A  minute's  time  and 
I  might  have  gathered  wits  to  present  my 
case- 
Here  old  Sax  got  excited  again.  He  looked 
at  both  of  us,  as  if  he  thought  that  we  doubted 
him. 

"I  tell  you  again,"  he  said,  "that  that  other 
woman  was  nothing  to  me  at  all,  except  a  poor 
pitiful  creature  that  I  would  have  been  a  brute 
not  to  help.  I  am  speaking  honestly  as  a  man 
to  his  two  friends  — 

"Arthur,"   said   Perez,    "to    me    you   need 
211 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

never  justify,  need  never  explain;  if  you  say 
so,  that  is  all,  the  rest  is  wasted  time. ' ' 

"Here,  too,"  says  I. 

It  would  stagger  anybody  to  see  how  poor 
Saxton  wanted  us  to  believe  him.  I  began  to 
see  how  he  had  poisoned  his  life.  He  looked 
at  us  very  thankfully,  but  tears  came  into  his 
eyes.  He  tried  to  go  on  in  the  calm  way,  but 
his  throat  was  husky.  Then  he  swore  out  free 
and  felt  better. 

"To  save  time,  I  believe  you  in  turn,"  he 
said.  "Another  of  my  tricks  is  to  wish  to  be 
believed  in  myself,  and  yet  always  doubt  other 
people.  Well,  I  lost  my  grip;  I  cannot  re 
member  all  I  said  to  Mary,  but  I  can  easily  re 
member  that  it  was  all  unpleasant.  I  simply 
improved  on  the  Almighty's  handiwork  by 
making  a  longer-eared  jackass  of  myself  than 
I  was  intended  to  be,  winding  up  as  a  master 
stroke  by  attacking  Belknap.  It  was  only  two 
days  before,  Perez,  that  Orinez  had  told  me 
the  other  side  of  Belknap 's  Great  Work;  of 
212 


Saxton's  Story 

how  he  was  undoing  all  that  you  and  Orinez 
had  done  for  the  salvation  of  this  unlucky 
country,  by  starting  up  a  revolution  in  order 
that  a  lot  of  poor  devils  might  be  killed  for  his 
private  benefit.  I  laid  it  on  hard  in  my  fury, 
and  Mary  told  me  to  leave.  She  said  she 
didn't  want  to  be  a  witness  of  my  descending 
so  low  as  to  attack  an  honorable  man  behind 
his  back,  — and  then  I  came  away.  The  Lord 
knows  I  have  no  memory  of  that  walk  home; 
everything  that  was  bad  in  my  blood  came  out. 
Honest,  I  fought— that  is  to  say,  I  had  lucid 
intervals  of  an  hour  or  so,  but  every  day 
my  sense  wore  blunt  under  the  grind  of  de 
spair.  It  was  a  disease ;  it  would  come  on  me 
in  waves  like  an  ague  fit.  I  really  suffered 
physically ;  I  lost  every  bit  of  decency  that  ever 
was  in  me ;  I  became  a  God-forsaken,  devil-rid 
den  brute ;  a  quart  of  French  brandy  a  day  did 
me  no  especial  good,  and  yet  I  loved  the  stuff 
for  the  time.  Well,  the  disease,  like  any  dis 
ease,  had  to  reach  its  climax.  It  came  when  I 
213 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

started  to  strike  you,  Henry— that  was  the 
limit  of  meanness  for  any  living  man.  Then 
old  Bill  here  took  hold  of  me,  and  squeezed 
what  was  left  of  the  obsession  out  of  me  with 
the  first  hug  of  his  arms.  For  the  expulsion  of 
devils,  I  recommend  your  long  flippers,  Bill, 
my  boy.  .  .  . 

* '  I  am  not  going  to  apologize  to  you,  Henry, 
nor  to  Bill.  If  I  did  n't  feel  something  more 
than  any  apology  could  make  good,  I  would  n't 
be  worth  your  trouble.  But  right  here  I 
shift." 

We  sat  still.  Seldom  you  see  a  man  take  out 
his  soul:  when  that  happens,  it  is  usually  a 
kind  of  indecent  exposure.  A  man  must  shake 
every  glimmer  of  vanity  out. 

Old  Saxton  stood  out  naked  and  unashamed 
like  a  statue.  Nobody  felt  embarrassed.  I 
was  too  young  to  appreciate  it  fully,  although  I 
did  in  a  measure.  I  saw  that  all  he  wanted 
was  to  be  honest.  Not  a  word  altered  to  win 
either  sympathy  or  approval  for  himself.  I 
214 


Saxton's  Story 

suppose  that  is  the  way  the  woman  he  spoke  of 
attracted  him. 

Perez  spoke  very  gently  and  cautiously. 
' '  This  is  all  strange  to  me,  Arthur, ' '  he  said ; 
"I  am  trying  to  understand.  You  seem  so 
strong,  of  the  head  so  remarkably  clear  and 
capable,  that  it  is  a  difficulty  to  understand  this 
trouble.  I  ask  now,  if  you  put  a  restraint  upon 
yourself,  will  not— pardon,  you  know  I  only 
ask  for  good- 
Sax  threw  both  arms  in  the  air.  "For  God's 
sake,  and  for  both  our  sakes,  Henry,  don't 
quiddle  with  courtesy— slam  out  with  it!  I  Ve 
lost  all  right  to  consideration — you  can  only 
give  me  self-respect  by  showing  you  believe  me 
man  enough  to  hear  what  you  have  to  say. ' ' 

That  slow  smile  lit  up  Perez's  eyes.  "Quite 
right,  Arthur, "he  said.  li  'Me  he  equivocado' 
—this,  then :  If  you  restrain  yourself,  like  the 
volcano,  will  you  not  break  out  somewhere 
new?" 

"Not  so  long  as  I  keep  my  grip  on  facts: 

215 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

I  'm  safe  when  I  can  say,  'I  'm  getting  crazy 
again.'  The  saying  restores  my  sanity.  Hav 
ing  no  one  to  say  it  to,  I  run  amuck. ' ' 

"You  have  that  friend,"  said  Perez.  He 
stopped  a  minute.  "I  would  not  have  you  hold 
yourself,  if  that  would  do  you  harm,  Arthur; 
but  now  I  say,  take  yourself  in  the  hand  strong, 
for  of  my  life  the  bitterest  time  was  when  you 
raised  your  arm  at  me. ' ' 

Saxton's  face  jerked  and  then  grew  still. 
"Come,  boys!"  he  said,  rolling  a  handful  of 
cigars  on  the  table.  "Smoke." 

I  never  saw  any  one  who  could  get  himself 
and  friends  in  and  out  of  trouble  like  Saxton. 
In  five  minutes  we  were  laughing  and  talking 
as  though  nothing  unusual  had  occurred. 
That  's  what  I  call  strength  of  mind.  It  was 
n't  that  Sax  could  n't  feel  if  he  let  himself, 
Heaven  knows.  It  was  that  he  could  shut 
down  so  tight,  when  roused  to  it,  that  he 
would  n't  feel,  nor  you,  neither. 

At  the  same  time  there  was  a  pity  for  him 
2  l6 


Saxton's  Story 

aching  at  the  bottom  of  my  heart,  and  when 
Perez  and  I  left  him  to  walk  home  together  a 
remark  Perez  made  started  the  Great  Scheme 
into  operation. 

"The  girl  must  care  for  him,"  said  Perez. 
"His  erraticality !  Bah!  What  woman  cares 
for  that,  so  long  that  the  strangeness  is  in  the 
way  of  feeling,  and  not  in  the  way  of  non-feel 
ing?  Women  desire  that  their  admirer  shall 
be  of  some  romance.  And  with  that  beautiful 
poet  face ;  the  fine  manner ;  the  grace  of  body 
and  of  mind— that  unusual  beautiful  which  is 
he  and  no  other— you  tell  me  that  any  woman 
shall  see  that  lay  at  her  feet  and  not  be  moved? 
Tonteria!  I  believe  it  not.  When  the  story  of 
that  other  woman  arrived  to  Senorita  Maria's 
ear  what  is  it  she  feel?  The  religious  abhor 
rence?  The  violation  of  taste?  Perhaps,  but 
much  more  a  thing  she  does  not  know  herself, 
that  monster  of  the  green  eye,  called  Jealousy 
—believe  me,  Sefior  Saunders,  the  man  who 
look  sees  more  of  the  play.  It  is  so.  Mees 
2I7 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

Mary  may  feel  bad  in  many  way,  but  when  she 
will  listen  to  the  explanation  not  at  all,  her 
worst  feel  bad  is  jealousy." 

I  don't  want  to  lay  claim  for  myself  as  a 
great  student  of  mankind,  yet  ideas  to  that  ef 
fect  had  begun  to  peek  around  the  corner  of 
my  skull.  It  seemed  to  me  that  Mary  felt  alto 
gether  too  hot  sorry  and  not  enough  resigned 
sorry  for  it  to  be  a  case  of  friendly  interest. 

"I  guess  you  're  right,  Mr.  Perez,"  said  I, 
' '  and  if  we  could  only  get  Sax  to  bust  through 
her  ideas,  as  I  busted  through  his  to-day— 

"Perfectamente!"  cried  Perez,  slapping  me 
on  the  back.  "It  is  the  same;  obsession,  Ar 
thur  called  it.  It  is  that  and  no  other.  This 
Belknap  has  so  played  upon  her  mind  that  it  is 
not  her  mind;  it  is  a  meexture  of  some  ideas 
she  has,  and  what  he  wishes  her  to  be.  If  she 
could  have  an  arm  of  that  rude  strength  like 
your  own— but,"  he  shrugged  his  shoulders, 
11  it  is  a  lady,  and  there  is  nothing. ' ' 

''I  'm  not  so  darned  sure  about  that,"  says  I, 
2l8 


Saxton's  Story 

little  particles  of  a  plan  slowly  settling  in  the 
mud-puddle  I  call  my  mind.  "I  'in  not  so 
hunky-dory  positive.  ...  If  I  could  get  holt  of 
something  against  that  cussed  Belknap,— 
something  that  would  look  bad  to  a  woman, 
-I'd  risk  it." 

Perez  brightened  right  up.  "You  have 
something  thought  about!"  he  asked,  eager. 
"Do  not  go  to  the  hotel  to-night.  Let  me  be 
your  host— we  are  right  at  the  door— Su  casa, 
Senor— let  me  offer  my  little  entertainment, 
and  we  shall  to  talk  further— will  you  not  let 
it  be  so?" 

I  liked  Perez  and  I  wanted  to  talk  as  much 
as  he  did.  "Much  obliged,"  says  I;  "I  hate 
a  hotel,  anyhow."  So  in  we  went. 


XII 

BILL    MEETS    A    RELATIVE 

PEREZ  had  a  fine  house,  a  revelation  to 
me;  big  halls,  big  rooms,  the  walls  cov 
ered  with  pictures,  Injun  relics,  armor,  swords, 
guns,  and  what  not;  many  servants  to  fetch 
and  carry,  and  an  ease  and  comfort  over  it  for 
which  delicious  is  the  only  word. 

We  had  a  bully  little  dinner  out  in  the  cool 
garden,  which  I  got  through  all  right  by  play 
ing  second  to  Perez.  The  finger-bowls  had  me 
off  the  trail  a  little,  but  I  waited  and  discovered 
their  purpose.  You  can  find  out  everything  if 
you  wait  long  enough. 

Then  with  coffee  and  cigars  we  began  to 
talk. 

' '  Now  for  the  plan  of  Senor  Saunders, ' '  says 
22O 


Bill  Meets  a  Relative 

Perez,  opening  the  bottom  of  his  well-sup 
ported  vest.  He  looked  so  respectable  and 
ordinary  sitting  there,  that  my  plan  lost  its 
light.  I  forgot  the  other  side  of  him. 

"Well,"  I  begun,  lamely,  "Saxton  wants  to 
marry  Mary." 

Perez  politely  acknowledged  that  such  was 
the  fact. 

"Then,"  says  I,  "why  don't  he  just  do  it?" 

Perez  looked  his  disappointment. 

"That  would  be  well,  surely,"  says  he  in  the 
tone  one  uses  to  a  harmless  fool. 

;  i  Here, ' '  says  I.  i '  First,  I  want  to  break  into 
Mr.  Belknap.  You  say  he  's  got  some  kind  of 
political  game  on  ? " 

Perez  renewed  his  interest.  "Si,"  says  he. 
"This  is  what  he  makes'.  He  is  now  going  to 
and  fro,  putting  those  that  have  come  to  his 
church againstthose  of  the  old  religion.  Against 
the  Catholic  Church  he  lays  the  blame  of  every 
thing  wrong.  It  will  be  a  revolution,  he  says, 
to  annihilate  that  enemy  of  man,  the  old  church, 
221 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

and  in  its  place  put  that  wonder  of  virtue,  the 
church  of  Mr.  Belknap.  What  will  happen  is 
that  many  poor  men  shall  be  killed,  and  the 
wolf-rascals  get  fat,  as  usual.  With  Belknap 
are  the  few  in  earnest,  who  think;  the  many 
who  neither  care  nor  think,  but  are  led;  those 
that  fight  for  love  of  it;  those  who  are  hypo 
crites,  and  those  who  look  for  profit.  On 
our  side,  the  same.  There  is  no  advantage  to 
either  by  comparison  in  that.  In  here  comes 
the  difference.  Such  men  as  Orinez  and  my 
self  know  that  this  unhappy  land  must  have 
peace,  before  any  notion  of  right  can  grow. 
When  it  is  all  fight,  fight,  fight,  one  cannot 
think  evenly— has  your  brother  been  killed? 
Your  wife  and  sisters  murdered?  And  then 
you  will  think  calmly  of  the  issue?  Time  is 
needed  to  heal  these  old  wounds,  that  more 
can  work  together.  So  Orinez  and  I  fight  for 
time— I  with  my  money  and  my  counsel,  he 
with  the  terror  of  his  name.  Once  I  did  Orinez 
a  favor;  he  never  forgets.  So  when  I  called 
222 


Bill  Meets  a  Relative 

to  help  me  in  this,  the  tiger  sheathed  his  claws ; 
the  man  of  blood  turned  shepherd ;  the  robber, 
honest;  but, "—and  here  Perez's  voice  took  a 
bitterness  worse  than  curses,— "but  Mr.  Bel- 
knap,  that  respected  man  of  God,  will  have  it 
that  the  need  of  the  State  is  the  drawing  of 
blood— once  more,  fire,  slaughter,  rape,  till  the 
land  stinks  with  corpses,  lays  black  in  the  sun 
light  and  rings  with  the  cries  of  injured  women 
—  a  great  work.  .  .  .  ' 

Perez  stood  up,  gripping  the  table.  "I  am 
a  little,  peaceful  man,"  he  said,  "but  there  are 
times  when  I  could  drive  a  knife  through  that 
man  and  shout  with  joy  for  every  blow." 
He  sat  down  quickly  and  smiled  a  faint  smile. 
"My  obsession,"  said  he,  wiping  his  forehead; 
"I,  too,  preach  peace  through  the  letting  of 
blood.  Belknap  may  be  as  much  in  earnest  as 
myself —Bah !  This  foolish  pretense  of  can 
dor!  He  is  not;  he  is  a  scoundrel— whether  he 
knows  it  or  not,  a  scoundrel." 

"Well,  that  's  good  news,"  said  I.  "It  won't 
223 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

be  hard  for  me  to  pick  a  quarrel  with  him, 
which  is  precisely  what  I  intend  to  do.  I  '11 
meet  his  schemes  with  some  of  my  own,  Mary 
likes  me,  and  it  will  be  at  least  a  stand-off  in 
her  mind  if  Brother  Belknap  and  I  fall  out. 
Then  the  next  thing  is  for  Arthur  to  get  a 
party  of  men,  capture  Mary,  take  her  off  and 
marry  her." 

Perez  threw  up  his  hands  in  horror.  ' l  Senor 
Saunders ! "  he  cried ;  ' '  for  you  to  say  this !  I 
am  astonished !  Abstract  the  lady  without  her 
wish?  Surely  I  have  not  heard  you  rightly— 
clianzas  aparte,  you  play  with  me— you  wish 
to  see  me  look?" 

' '  Not  I, ' '  says  I,  stout ;  "  I  mean  every  word 
of  it.  As  Sax  said  this  afternoon,  there  's 
times  when  it  's  wicked  to  twiddle  with  cour 
tesy.  That  girl  will  ruin  her  whole  life  if 
Belknap  has  the  making  of  it.  Her  friends 
ought  n't  to  stand  by  and  see  it  done— damn 
it,  man!  Suppose  she  dropped  her  handker 
chief  as  she  was  falling  over  a  cliff— what 
224 


Bill  Meets  a  Relative 

would  you  do  first :  save  her  life  or  pick  up  the 
handkerchief!" 

Perez  puffed  and  thought  a  moment. 
"Tiene  V.  razon,"  he  says,  "there  is  more  here 
than  a  ball-room.  I  knew  her  as  a  girl,  I  know 
her  now.  Belknap  I  know  too.  My  life  I 
stake  on  it  that  for  Belknap  to  win  her,  means 
her  life  wrecked,  and  yet  I  stop— from  habit. 
I  stake  my  life— I  mean  it— on  my  judgment, 
yet  dare  not  stake  an  action  to  make  that  judg 
ment  good. ' ' 

He  waited  again,  while  the  minutes  slipped 
by ;  drumming  on  the  table ;  shifting  things  in 
his  mind.  The  whole  air  of  long,  long  use  to 
the  handsome,  nice  things  I  saw  about  me 
struck  me  strong  in  the  man.  He  was  born  to 
it,  and  his  forebears  centuries  before  him.  Yet 
instead  of  breeding  out  the  man  in  him,  it  had 
only  taken  off  the  scum. 

At  last  he  spoke.  "Give  me  more  time, 
campanero.  I  shall  consider  this  further. 
To  meddle  with  other  lives  is  always  a  dan- 

225 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

gerous  business,  just  as  not  to  meddle  may  be 
a  shameful  one.  As  it  stands,  if  be  gets  not  the 
lady  for  a  wife,  Saxton  is  a  lost  man— I  know 
him.  On  his  word,  on  your  word  and  on  my 
word,  she  is  not  indifferent  to  him.  We  know 
Belknap  is  a  rascal,  and  for  her  unfit.  And  so, 
action— yet  I  am  a  man  of  peace." 

He  smiled  at  me.  "Did  you  ever  see  a  man 
of  peace  in  more  unpeaceful  place?  Well, 
Senor  Saunders,  your  plan  has  that  daring 
which  often  cows  success.  It  remains  to  be 
seen  whether  Arthur  can  by  any  means  be 
brought  to  think  of  it :  his  pride  will  be  afire  at 
the  thought— yes,  that  is  it.  Listen.  If  you 
can  gain  his  acceptance— and  you  have  no 
plan  wkhout  it— I  am  with  you,  heart  and 
soul." 

"Good!"  says  I.  "Shake  hands  on  it.  I 
sha'n't  strike  Arthur  at  once.  I  mean  to  work 
up  the  disagreement  with  Brother  Belknap 
first.  'T  will  do  no  harm  in  any  case  if  his 
head  is  punched." 

226 


Bill  Meets  a  Relative 

Perez  laughed.  "You  are  warrior,  pure 
and  not  so  simple,"  says  he.  "Heaven  send 
strength  to  your  arm  when  you  meet." 

"I  ask  no  odds  of  top,  bottom,  nor  middle," 
says  I.  ' ' Give  me  a  fair  field. ' ' 

' '  There  spoke  a  better  spirit  than  Achilles  of 
old  times,"  says  Perez.  "So  should  I  be,  if  I 
had  an  arm  like  that. ' ' 

"I  '11  bet  there  'd  be  some  danger  in  you,  my 
friend ! ' '  says  I. 

The  light  went  out  of  his  face.  "Mention  it 
not,"  he  said  sternly.  "Once  it  was  my  mis 
fortune  to  kill  a  man— you  are  not  offended  at 
my  speech  I ' ' 

"Not  on  your  family  portraits !— but,  of 
course,  I  could  n't  know— you  ain't  put  out,  for 
your  part?" 

"Only  what  is  right  I  should  be— what  is  it 
your  great  poet  says— 'bears  yet  a  precious 
jewel  in  its  head'?  So  with  me.  To  walk  with 
a  ghost  has  done  me  no  harm.  In  pity  for 
myself,  I  pity  others.  But  this  is  a  melancholy 
227 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

talk— come,  I  shall  show  you  my  pictures. 
Some  are  wonderful,  all  are  good. ' ' 

So  we  went  into  the  fine  old  house  again  and 
saw  the  paintings.  They  were  beyond  my  cal 
culations.  Outside  of  the  things  Sax  never 
finished  and  bar  a  chromo  or  two,  I  'd  never 
seen  a  picture— I  don't  count  the  grand 
fathers'  portraits  at  home— decent  people 
enough,  them  and  their  wives,  but  not  what 
you  'd  call  beautiful  except  Great-Grand 
mother  De  La  Tour — she  was  a  corker. 

Seeing  that  I  enjoyed  'em,  Perez  explained 
the  pictures  to  me,  what  were  the  good  points. 
When  I  've  told  people  the  names  on  the  pic 
tures  in  Perez's  gallery,  I  Ve  simply  been  told 
I  lied. 

Next  Perez  said,  "You  like  music,  Senor 
Saunders ! ' ' 

* '  You  bet ! ' '  says  I.  So  he  led  the  way  into 
a  room  off  the  gallery.  It  was  a  long,  high 
room  rounded  at  one  end,  with  an  arched  ceil 
ing.  The  least  whisper  in  there  rang  clear.  At 
228 


Bill  Meets  a  Relative 

the  round  end  was  an  organ.  Perez  called;  a 
little  Injun  boy  came  to  pump  the  organ. 

Perez  seated  himself  on  the  bench.  "Now," 
said  he,  "if  only  we  had  Arthur— foolish  fel 
low  !  Here  is  this  great  house  with  only  one 
small  man  in  it !  I  beg  him  to  live  here,  but  he 
will  not— he  says  he  must  live  in  a  place  rough, 
as  you  saw." 

"I  'm  inclined  to  think  Sax  knows  his  pas 
ture,  Mr.  Perez,"  I  answered. 

He  nodded.  "I  only  spoke  as  I  often  do," 
he  said,  i  l  of  what  I  wish,  instead  of  what  must 
be— so  little  a  change  would  make  this  so  much 
better  a  world."  He  thought  for  a  second. 
"An  easier  world,"  he  corrected;  "really  it  is 
better  as  it  is— well,  I  am  more  musician  than 
philosopher,— what  will  you,  amigo  miof 
Something  grand?  military!  of  sentiment,  or 
peace?" 

"I  tell  you,  Mr.  Perez,"  says  I,  "I  don't 
know  anything  about  music.  Can't  you 
play  pieces  not  too  high  for  me,  yet  good  to 
229 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

listen  to,  so  I  feel  it,  and  learn  at  the  same 
time?" 

He  laughed  as  if  I  tickled  him.  "  There 
speaks  that  so  practical  Northern  head, ' '  says 
he,  "that  will  have  the  heart  lifted  and  also 
a  dollar  in  the  pocket. ' ' 

' '  Am  I  foolish  ? "  I  asked.  I  never  yet  played 
being  big  before  a  man  who  knew  something. 
When  he  knows  he  sees  your  little  play  and 
despises  you  for  it. 

"Not  foolish,  chico,"  says  Perez.  "Only 
wise  with  a  wisdom  strange  to  me."  He 
wheeled  and  looked  at  me.  "A  most  strange 
young  man  you  are;  the  strength  of  a  giant, 
roaring  health  and  no  fool,  and  yet  you  will 
listen  to  an  older  man— you  icish  to  listen. 
Receive  the  thanks  of  an  older  man.  The  hope 
of  such  service  is  the  one  poor  vanity  remain 
ing  to  him.  May  time  so  deal  with  you  that 
you  shall  never  know  the  compliment  you  pay 
-listen!" 

The  old  organ  burst  into  a  pride  of  sound. 
230 


Bill  Meets  a  Relative 

Big  and  splendid— steel  and  fair  ladies— roses 
and  sudden  death.  Made  my  heart  get  big  and 
want  to  do  something.  Perhaps  talking  with 
Perez,  his  air  of  decent  sadness,  and  his  old- 
time  way  of  speaking,  kind  of  lofty  for  this 
date,  yet  never  slopping  over ;  and  perhaps  the 
beautiful  old  house  with  its  hangings,  pictures, 
and  armor  helped  the  music,  but  anyhow,  as  I 
listened,  I  had  visions.  I  felt  like  a  lost  calf 
that  's  got  back  to  the  herd  and  a  sight  of 
mama.  I  was  still  in  my  dream  when  I  re 
alized  the  music  had  stopped  and  that  Perez 
was  looking  at  me. 

"May  I  take  a  liberty?"  said  he.  "A  re 
semblance  has  perplexed  me  since  I  met  you. ' ' 

( i  Sure, ' '  says  I,  waking  up. 

He  walked  to  the  corner  where  there  stood 
an  old  suit  of  armor.  It  was  made  for  a  siz 
able  man.  Together  we  put  the  corselet  on  me, 
and  then  I  fixed  the  helmet  and  followed  Pe 
rez's  lead. 

He  held  a  lamp  before  us,  as  we  went  down 
231 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

a  passage  into  a  small  side  room.  There  I 
thought  I  saw  my  image  in  a  glass.  Perez 
laughed  at  my  face,  when  I  found  it  was  a  pic 
ture.  It  seemed  magic  to  me. 

' l  What  in  the  world ! ' '  says  I. 

"Behold  the  Marquis  De  La  Tour !"  says  he. 

' '  The  devil  it  is ! "  says  I.  ' '  Still  respected, 
though  forty  greats  removed !  Perez,  old  man, 
that  's  my  grandpa!" 

' ' The  face  proves  it, ' '  he  answered.  "He  is 
also  mine.  Cousin,  I  felt  the  pull  of  blood 
this  day.  Your  hand,  and  we  shall  have  a  bot 
tle  of  wine. ' ' 

"It  ain't  often  that  a  man  meets  his  forty- 
ply  great-grandpa  and  so  nice  a  Spanish 
cousin,"  says  I.  "I  reckon  I  can  square  it 
with  Mary  later.  Lead  on,  McDuff,  and 
dammed  be  he  who  cannot  hold  enough." 

A  very  tidy  little  tidal  wave  of  joy  broke 

over  the  Perez  mansion.    Everybody  rejoiced ; 

we  had  the  man-servant  and  the  maid-servant 

and  the  rest  of  the  menagerie  in   drinking 

232 


Bill  Meets  a  Relative 

healths  to  the  new-met  relatives.  To  this  day 
I  ain  't  exactly  sure  how  close  connected  Perez 
and  I  are.  Grandpa  De  La  Tour  was  a  little 
nearer  than  Adam,  to  be  sure,  but  not  near 
enough,  so  there  would  n't  have  been  some 
fussing  about  his  will,  if  it  should  suddenly  be 
discovered. 

One  of  his  daughters  married  a  Spaniard 
that  started  the  Perez  line,— and  My!  but  that 
line  was  spread  out  thin !  There  'd  been  pretty 
husky  families  on  my  side,  too ;  however,  I  was 
durned  proud  to  claim  kin  with  a  man  like 
Perez,  and  I  would  n't  have  spoiled  the  lone 
some  little  man's  joy  in  finding  a  relative,  any 
how.  All  his  tribe  but  him  had  been  wiped  out 
completely.  I  was  the  only  relative  he  had— 
that  is,  that  he  knew  about.  The  United  States 
was  full  of  'em,  if  he  'd  only  known  it.  Eu 
rope,  too,  I  reckon.  Still,  his  talk  about  the 
pull  of  blood  was  n't  nonsense,  neither.  I  felt 
drawn  to  him  from  the  first,  and  who  can  say 
that  in  feeling  and  ways  of  acting  we  really 

233 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

were  n't  closer  connected  than  some  brothers 
are!  And  Grandpa  De  La  Tour  was  all  right 
for  an  excuse.  I  sure  did  look  like  him— not 
so  much  now,  that  I  wear  hair  on  my  face,  but 
then  I  would  n't  have  known  which  was  him 
and  which  was  me  if  we  met  on  the  street. 

Before  we  turned  in  for  the  night  I  spoke  to 
Perez  again  about  Sax  and  Mary.  He  listened 
eager  enough  now.  What  I  suggested  was  all 
right— little  peculiarities  of  a  gentleman.  As 
Perez  put  it,  "The  greater  courtesy  of  the 
heart,  that  stops  not  at  the  puny  fences  of  the 
fixed  way."  How  different  the  same  thing 
looks  in  different  lights !  He  was  dead  right 
about  the  fences.  I  never  saw  a  fence  yet  with 
out  wanting  to  tear  a  hole  in  it,  but  you  Ve  only 
to  string  a  thread  across,  if  I  Ve  no  business 
there,  to  keep  me  out. 

It  appeared  to  me  then,  and  it  appears  to  me 
still,  that  I  had  a  right  to  interfere  in  Mary's 
affair.  At  times,  of  course,  you  're  a  plain 
meddlesome  Pete,  if  you  cut  in,  and  you  de- 

234 


Bill  Meets  a  Relative 

serve  all  you  probably  will  get,— as  many  kicks 
as  the  parties  can  land  on  you  before  you  es 
cape  ;  on  the  other  hand,  Perez  was  right  when 
he  said  it  sometimes  was  shameful  not  to  inter 
fere.  And  while  marriage  is  the  most  private 
of  all  things,  it  's  the  most  binding,  too :  you 
can  lose  money,  get  experience,  and  make 
more ;  fall  out  with  your  friends  and  make  it 
up  again,  but  a  lifetime  tied  to  one  person  is 
the  stiff  est<  proposition  a  human  being  is  called 
upon  to  face.  Here  's  Mary,  a  girl  without 
much  experience,  putting  herself  in  the  way  of 
being  hooked  for  life  to  a  man  1  knew  to  be  a 
fraud— let  her  suffer  for  her  folly?  No,  by 
the  Lord !  Let  me  suffer  for  my  folly,  if  neces 
sary,  but  in  it  I  go.  We  're  all  kids  and  some 
times  we  've  got  to  be  made  to  do  the  right 
thing — and — here  's  the  rub — if  strict  but  kind 
papa  is  sure  he  's  right  (which  he  can't  be)  its 
easy ;  if  not,  I  suppose  it  's  up  to  us  as  per  gen 
eral  orders,  do  the  best  you  can  and  prepare  to 
go  down  with  the  wreck.  I  envy  the  man 

235 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

who  's  sure  he  's  right,  but  the  Lord  have 
mercy  on  his  friends.  Well,  that  's  what  Perez 
and  I  arrived  at;  that  we  were  stacked  against 
a  blooming  mystery  and  we  'd  shoot  at  the  one 
glimmer  of  light  we  had.  Mary  did  care  for 
Sax.  Good.  Belknap  was  a  fraud.  Good.  To 
the  devil  with  the  rest  of  the  argument. 

However,  I  did  n't  reveal  my  full  plan  re 
garding  Belknap  to  my  kinsman.  I  had  a 
hunch  that  even  my  likeness  to  Grandpa  De  La 
Tour  would  n't  convince  him.  You  see,  like 
most  kids,  savages,  and  people  not  grown  up  in 
general,  I  believed  in  playing  the  game  as  it 
was  played  on  me.  I  would  n't  let  a  rogue  es 
cape  for  want  of  a  helpful  lie  in  season,  acted 
or  spoken.  I  could  n't  see  why  you  should  n't 
get  him  his  way,  so  long  as  you  got  him.  It 
took  me  some  years  to  understand  Saxton's 
saying,  that  it  was  better  for  a  rascal  to  escape, 
than  for  an  honest  man  to  turn  rascal  in  catch 
ing  him.  Plain  enough  when  you  think  of  it. 
If  you  work  low  down  on  the  other  feller,  to 
236 


Bill  Meets  a  Relative 

trip  him,  there  's  two  rascals,  that  's  all.  It 
comes  medium  hard  to  see  it  in  that  light, 
though,  when  before  your  eyes  the  rascal  is 
having  it  all  his  own  way.  And,  while  I  disap 
prove  of  my  own  methods,  the  results  was 
great.  No  use  talking,  the  wicked  sometimes 
prosper  and  your  Uncle  William  played  in  a 
full-jeweled  streak  of  luck.  The  next  day  I 
opened  my  campaign. 


237 


XIII 

EED    MAKES   A   FEW    REMARKS 

IT  seemed  to  me  it  was  only  friendly  for  me 
to  get  some  sympathy  for  Saxton,  as  lie 
would  n't  try  for  himself.  Yet  this  looked  a 
delicate  proposition.  I  can't  give  you  the 
proper  idea  of  how  quick-witted  Mary  was, 
how  easy  she  saw  the  behind-meaning  of  your 
words,  or  even  saw  things  you  did  n't  know 
yourself. 

It  's  a  good  trait  to  its  possessor,  but,  like 
everything  else  in  this  world,  there  's  a  price 
to  pay  for  it.  She  sometimes  saw  things  that 
were  n't  there.  A  man  with  extra  good  sight 
is  more  fooled  by  mirage  than  a  man  who 
does  n't  trust  his  eyes  so  much.  And  it  had 
fallen  down  on  her,  on  the  most  important 

238 


Red  Makes  a  Few  Remarks 

dealing  of  her  life.  She  saw  Saxton  wrong, 
and  could  n't  see  him  right,  for  that  trust  in 
her  own  judgment.  She  had  to  root  up  the 
very  foundation  of  her  belief  in  everything 
to  upset  her  wrong  judgment  of  him.  She  felt 
the  drawing  toward  him  was  something  to  be 
fought  hard,  the  same  as  a  man  would  fight  a 
growing  inclination  to  drink.  And  like  a  great 
many  people  (although  it  's  a  thing  I  can't 
understand  myself),  she  swung  to  what  was 
solemn,  uninteresting,  and  hard,  for  safety. 

And  changed!  Well,  that  morning,  when  I 
slid  around  to  the  house  of  the  fountain,  I 
scarcely  knew  her.  It  was  Saturday,  and  no 
school.  About  a  dozen  or  twenty  young  Pan- 
amans  walked  or  sat  about  the  yard.  The 
Reconstructed  looked  stiff  and  unhappy  in  the 
boiled  white  shirt  of  progress,  but  out  of  na 
tive  good  nature  tried  to  appear  pleasant. 

Lots  of  the  Great  Works,  that  spread  misery 
over  whole  communities,  would  n't  come  off, 
if  a  sense  of  a  joke  was  left  in  the  conspirators. 

239 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

Mary  was  keen  for  a  laugh,  and  saw  the 
funny  side  of  things  as  quick  as  any  man,  yet 
those  poor  little  devils  all  out  of  place  and 
condition  did  n't  raise  a  smile  on  her  face.  It 
did  on  mine,  though.  I  thought  of  'em,  happy 
in  their  fleas,  sun,  and  dirt,  and  then  looked 
at  the  early-Christian-martyr  expression  on 
their  faces  and  choked,  but  that  laugh  rode  on 
sorrow  and  anger  at  that.  It  was  a  downright 
wickedness  to  the  children.  I  looked  at  Mary, 
knowing  her  for  a  kind  woman— one  who 
loved  all  innocent  play.  I  hit  myself  on  the 
head  at  the  dumb-foolishness  of  it.  How  in 
the  devil's  name  could  she  bring  herself  to  ap 
prove  of  this?  Why  is  it  we  lay  a  course  for 
somebody  else  we  'd  never  think  of  following 
ourselves?  Well,  I  sat  there  and  echo  con 
tinued  to  answer  "Why?"  as  usual,  till  the  si 
lence  thickened. 

She  broke  it  with  a  lucky  proposition.  * '  You 
seem  very  serious  this  morning,  Will,"  she 
said. 

240 


Red  Makes  a  Few  Remarks 

I  told  her  that  was  so;  looking  at  the  poor 
little  revolutionists  in  their  white  shirts  of  suf 
fering,  I  made  up  my  mind  to  let  her  have  it. 

' '  I  wonder, ' '  I  said,  "  if  it  's  asking  too  much 
of  you  to  listen  to  me  for  awhile.  I  had  a  mis 
erable  time  of  it,  as  a  boy,  and  now  and  then 
it  sits  on  me  so  hard  I  like  to  speak  to  a  friend 
for  comfort." 

It  was  the  surest  way  to  claim  her  time.  She 
caught  my  hand.  "Certainly,"  she  said.  "If 
you  only  knew,  Will,  how  anxious  I  am  to  be 
of  some  real  service  in  this  world,  instead  of 
being  told  that  I  'm-" 

"Let  it  go!"  I  put  in.  "That  you  're  good 
to  look  at,  and  so  forth?" 

She  nodded.  "I  don't  mean  that  I  'm  so 
lofty-minded  that  I  don't  like  it  sometimes, 
yet  I  must  n't  grow  to  like  it  and— 

"For  my  part  I  'm  glad  there  's  some 
beauty  in  this  little  old  world,"  said  I.  "I 
love  to  trig  myself  out  as  you  see— give  the 

folks  a  treat.     Honest,  I  can't  see  the  harm 

lo 

241 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

in  brightening  up  the  landscape  all  you  're 
able.  But,  though  I  ain't  much  of  a  profes 
sional  beauty,  I  can  understand  that  too  much 
sugar  leads  to  seasickness." 

''You  're  as  handsome  a  young  man  as  a 
young  man  should  be!"  says  Mary,  indignant. 
"Don't  attempt  a  foolish  modesty.  I  wish  I 
were  strong,  and  six-foot-three,  and  a  man ! ' ' 

" Throw  in  the  red  hair?" 

"You  have  beautiful  hair!  I  believe  you 
know  it,  you  vain  boy,  and  let  it  grow  pur 
posely.  And  now  you  're  just  leading  me  to 
sound  your  praises!" 

I  laughed.  ' i  I  'd  stick  at  nothing,  for  that, ' ' 
I  answered.  ' l  Oh,  why  ain  't  I  ten  years  older ! 
I  'd  have  you  out  of  here  in  a  minute ! ' ' 

"I  believe  you  would,"  she  said;  "I  don't 
believe  you  'd  care  for  my  protests  nor  prayers 
nor  tears.  You  'd  just  selfishly  pick  me  right 
up  and  walk  away  with  me  and  bully  me  for 
the  rest  of  my  days ! ' ' 

"Just  that— Heavens !  But  I  'd  make  it  aw- 
242 


Red  Makes  a  Few  Remarks 

ful  for  you !    Captain  Jesse  would  be  a  lamb 
kin  beside  me ! " 

We  both  laughed,  thinking  of  Jesse  the  Ter 
rible. 

"The  dear  old  Matilda!"  she  said,— almost 
whispered,— and  her  eyes  grew  softer. 

' '  Happy  times,  were  n  't  they !  And  coming 
after  what  I  'd  left—  '  I  shook  my  head. 

"Tell  me,  Will." 

"I  Ve  wondered  how  much  was  my  not  un 
derstanding,"  I  went  on,  "and  how  much  I 
had  to  kick  about.  I  suppose  if  I  was  older, 
I  'd  be  like  Sax— keep  my  troubles  to  myself  - 
but  I  have  n't  learned  how,  yet.  Still,  I  don't 
want  to  spoil  your  morning." 

She  frowned  a  little  at  Saxton's  name,  not  an 
ill-tempered,  but  a  thoughtful  frown,  as  a  new 
idea  struck  her.  She  put  it  away  from  her, 
and  turned. 

"That  you  should  come  to  me,  Will,  is  a 
high  compliment.  1  know  you  're  not  the  kind 
to  give  your  woes  to  the  world.  If-  '  she 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

smiled  at  me,  "if  you  won't  think  it  heartless 
of  me,  I  '11  say  I  '11  enjoy  hearing  'em." 

"I  understand,"  I  answered;  "just  as,  in  a 
way,  I  '11  enjoy  telling  them.  Well,  here  we 
go." 

So  I  put  the  facts  to  her  as  fair  and  calm 
as  I  could,  patterning  after  Saxton's  method. 
I  had  n  't  his  nerve ;  gradually  heat  swept  into 
my  discourse.  I  forgot  where  I  was  and  who 
I  was  talking  to,  as  the  old  wrongs  boiled  up. 

When  I  finished  I  remembered,  and  sat 
back. 

Mary  was  also  still. 

I  rolled  a  cigarette  and  played  for  airiness. 
"Of  course,"  I  said,  "it  's  all  in  a  lifetime." 

She  put  her  hand  on  mine.  "Don't,"  she 
said,  "don't." 

I  shut  up.    The  minutes  slid  by  heavy-footed. 

At  last  she  spoke. 

"For  sheer  inhumanity,"  she  said,  "I  think 
that  is  without  an  equal." 

"Oh,  no!"  I  said.  "I  reckon  the  story  's 
244 


Red  Makes  a  Few  Remarks 

common  enough  wherever  people  let  an  idea 
ride  'em  bareback.  Father  was  a  good  man, 
with  bad  notions,  that  's  all." 

T  purposely  let  my  eye  fall  on  the  little  revo 
lutionists,  standing  in  a  melancholy  line— no 
thing  to  do,  nothing  to  think,  all  balloon-juice 
to  them. 

As  I  hoped,  her  eyes  followed  mine.  She 
straightened,  seeing  the  point.  Color  came 
into  her  face.  "Children!"  she  called  sharply 
in  Spanish,  "why  do  you  not  run  and  play?" 

The  line  fell  into  embarrassment.  They 
hooked  the  dirt  with  their  feet  and  looked  at 
each  other. 

' '  Alfonso ! ' '  said  Mary,  ' ' start  some  game ! ' ' 

The  biggest  boy  took  off  his  hat  and  smiled 
his  grave,  polite  smile. 

"8i,  Senorita!"  he  replied;  "but  what  is 
i  game '  ? " 

"I  Ve  been  so  busy  with  — more  important 
things  that  1  have  n't  thought  of  amusements," 
Mary  explained  to  me,  aside.  There  was  apol- 
245 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

ogy  in  the  explanation ;  I  heard  with  glad  ears. 
"  Is  it  possible  they  know  no  games  1 ' ' 

"Why,  I  suppose  they  do,  of  a  kind,"  I  an 
swered;  "but  it  seems  to  me  the  chief  lack 
of  these  kids  is  real  play ;  they  're  all  little  old 
men  and  women ;  the  kid  spring  is  knocked  out 
of  'em ;  they  've  lived  in  war  and  slaughter  so 
much  they  don 't  believe  in  anything  else. ' ' 

"Well,"  said  she  promptly,  "that  's  a  poor 
state  of  affairs. ' ' 

' '  The  worst, ' '  said  I.  i '  What  kind  of  nation 
can  you  grow  out  of  children  who  have  no  fun  ? 
Their  God  will  look  like  a  first  cousin  of  our 
devil.  I  did  manage  to  rake  some  sport  out 
of  my  time,  or  else  I  'd  gone  to  the  bad  entirely, 
I  reckon." 

The  color  deepened  in  her  face.  She  did  n't 
have  to  be  hit  with  a  club. 

"We  wanted  to  furnish  them  a  moral  back 
bone,  first, ' '  she  apologized  again.  ' '  It  seemed 
necessary  to  give  them  some  standards  of  con 
duct." 

246 


Red  Makes  a  Few  Remarks 

"I  'd  give  'em  a  good  time,  first— they  're 

a  hint  young  for  standards." 

/ 
' l  Just  see  them  stand  there !  Why,  they  seem 

without  an  idea— what  shall  I  do  with  them?" 
She  was  all  at  a  loss.  "It  is  n't  right,  poor 
children ! ' '  She  suddenly  turned  to  me,  with 
eagerness  in  her  face.  " Could  n't  you  stir 
them  up,  Will?" 

"Sure!"  says  I,  throwing  away  the  cigar 
ette.  "Come  along!  Tag,  you  're  it!"  and 
I  lit  out  at  a  gallop,  Mary  after  me,  and  the 
revolutionists  watching,  altogether  too  polite 
to  appear  astonished.  My !  but  that  girl  could 
run !  .lump,  too ;  I  cleared  the  fountain,  think 
ing  she  'd  have  to  go  'round,  but  she  gathered 
her  skirts  in  her  hand  and  was  over  it  in  a  flash 
of  black  and  white,  clean-motioned  as  a  grey 
hound. 

"Qui  dado,  compadres!"  I  yelled.     "Here 

comes  the  government  army!"    Instantly  they 

understood   and   scattered.     By  hollering   at 

them,  they  finally  got  the  idea.    Tag  would  n't 

247 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

have  interested  them— revolution  did.  We  di 
vided  into  sides.  As  soon  as  they  got  going 
good,  Mary  and  I  dropped  out  of  it. 

''There,"  said  I,  watching  'em  running  and 
hollering  and  giggling,  ' '  I  like  that  better. ' ' 

' '  It  is  better, ' '  agreed  Mary, '  *  and  my  thanks 
to  you  for  the  change.  I  'm  afraid  one  for 
gets  the  little  needs  in  thinking  of  the  great 
ones." 

* '  Mary, ' '  I  said, ' '  it  may  sound  strange  com 
ing  from  me ;  I  hope  you  won 't  take  it  wrong ; 
but  do  you  know  that  in  reading  the  New  Tes 
tament  plumb  through,  I  can't  remember  com 
ing  on  a  place  where  it  says  anything  about 
big  needs?  Please  don't  think  I  'm  talking  too 
careless  for  decency;  Christ  always  acted  like 
a  kind  friend,  as  I  see  it.  I  can't  believe  it 

would  hurt  His  feelings  a  particle  to  hear  me 

* 

talk  this  way.  He  was  above  worrying  about 
lots  of  things  that  bother  the  churches.  He 
stopped  to  take  a  glass  of  wine  and  have  a  talk 
with  a  saloon-keeper.  Now,  if  He  was  God, 
248 


Red  Makes  a  Few  Remarks 

was  that  a  little  thing!  Does  God  do  little  use 
less  things  1  Remember,  I  thought  these  things 
over  when  I  was  getting  it  hard— stop  me,  if 
I  seem  disrespectful." 

"No,"  she  said,  "it  sounds  queerly  to  me, 
but  I  know  you  are  not  disrespectful,  Will. 
I  would  n't  accuse  you  of  being  the  kind  of 
fool  who  'd  play  smart  at  the  expense  of  the 
Almighty. ' ' 

"All  right— glad  you  understand  me.  Now, 
listen!  Is  it  great  to  pull  a  long  face?  Is  it 
right  to  get  melancholy  about  religion,  when 
the  head  of  it  always  preached  happiness! 
Is  it  sensible  to  try  and  make  every  one  do 
your  way,  when  you  're  told  the  nearer  like 
little  children  we  are,  the  better  we  are  off? 
Don't  you  think  you  're  acting  as  if  you  knew 
better  than  Christ  Himself!  You  don't  im 
agine  that  those  kids,  as  they  were  ten  minutes 
ago,  was  what  He  meant  when  He  said,  'Suf 
fer  little  children  to  come  unto  Me'?  Seems 
to  me  you  Ve  altered  the  text  to  read:  'Suf- 
249 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

fer,  little  children,  to  come  unto  Me.'  They 
sure  were  suffering  in  them  starched  white 
shirts,  but  I  'm  betting  the  words  were  n't 
meant  to  read  like  that. ' ' 

"Will,"  she  said  earnestly,  "I  think  I  Ve 
made  the  common  mistake  of  supposing  that 
I  alone  cared.  Even  now,  while  I  feel  you 
have  more  the  real  spirit  than  I,  your  way  of 
speaking  jars  on  me."  She  sat  down  as  if  she 
had  suddenly  grown  weak.  "I  have  simply 
worshiped  a  certain  way  of  doing  things  and 
forgotten  the  results  and  the  reason  for  doing 
anything.  Your  straight  way  of  putting  it 
makes  my  life  seem  ridiculous. ' ' 

She  stopped  with  a  miserable  face.  I  had  n't, 
in  the  least,  thought  to  convince  her.  Most 
people  will  hang  on  to  a  mistake  of  that  kind 
harder  than  they  will  to  a  life-preserver.  It 
was  like  turning  a  Republican  into  a  Democrat 
by  simply  showing  him  he  was  wrong— who  'd 
go  into  politics  with  that  idea! 

I  stared  at  her,  not  believing.  "Why, 
250 


Red  Makes  a  Few  Remarks 

Mary,"  I  said,  hedging,  as  a  person  will  in 
such  circumstances,  "it  ain't  a  cinch  that  I  'm 
right.  I  'm  only  a  boy,  and  of  course  things 
appear  to  me  boy  fashion." 

She  cut  me  short.  "  To  be  honest,  doubts  have 
troubled  me  before  this.  Your  history  proves 
what  can  be  done  by  extreme—" 

Up  to  this  she  had  spoken  quite  quietly. 
Now  she  put  her  head  in  her  hands  and  burst 
out  crying;  fortunately  we  were  in  a  little 
summer-house  where  no  one  could  see  us. 

"Oh,  Will!"  she  sobbed  out,  "the  struggle 
for  nothing  at  all!  All  fight,  fight,  and  no 
peace!  I  want  to  be  a  good  woman,  I  do;  but 
what  is  there  for  me?" 

"Listen  to  me  again,"  says  I,  so  sorry  that 
I  had  another  attack  of  reason.  ' '  There  's  this 
for  you— to  be  a  man's  wife,  and  make  him 
twice  a  man  because  you  are  his  wife;  to  raise 
boys  and  girls  that  prove  what  's  right- 
there  's  a  job  for  you." 

She    dried    her    tears    and    smiled    at    me, 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

ashamed  of  showing  so  much  feeling.    "Is  this 
an  offer?"  she  said. 

I  had  to  laugh.  ' '  You  don 't  squirm  out  that 
way,  young  lady— you  were  in  earnest  and  you 
know  it.  I  '11  take  you,  if  necessary— by  the 
Prophet  Moses,  I  will,  if  some  other  feller 
does  n't  show  up  soon— but  I  want  to  speak 
of  a  more  suitable  man." 

She  looked  at  me.  It  was  a  try  at  being 
stern,  but,  as  a  result,  it  was  a  good  deal  more 
scared. 

"You  can  do  a  great  deal  with  me,  Will," 
she  said,  "but  I  '11  not  hear  a  word  of  Arthur 
Saxton. ' ' 

' '  Then, ' '  says  I,  stern  in  dead  earnest,  ' '  you 
are  a  foolish  and  an  unfair  woman.  You  Ve 
believed  what  was  told  you ;  now  you  shall  hear 
a  friend." 

"I  will  not/'  she  cried,  rising. 

I  caught  her  arms  and  forced  her  back  into 
the  seat.  '  *  You  will, ' '  I  answered. 

"Very  well,"  she  said  with  quivering  lips. 
252 


Red  Makes  a  Few  Remarks 

"If  you  wish  to  take  advantage  of  the  friend 
ship  I  have  shown  you,  and,  because  you  are 
strong,  make  nie  hear  what  I  have  forbidden 
you  to  say,  I  'm  helpless." 

"All  the  mean  things  you  say  sha'n't  stop 
me.  Now,  as  long  as  you  must  listen,  won't 
you  pay  attention?"  I  asked  this  in  my  most 
wheedling  tone.  I  knew  I  'd  fetch  her.  She 
stayed  stiff  for  about  ten  seconds.  Then  the 
dimples  came. 

"It  makes  me  so  angry  to  think  I  can't  get 
angry  with  you,  I  don't  know  what  to  do,"  she 
snapped  at  me.  "You  have  no  business  to 
talk  to  me  this  way.  I  should  n't  stand  it  for 
a  minute.  You  're  nothing  but  a  great  bully, 
bullying  a  poor  little  woman,  you  nice  boy! 
Who  ever  heard  of  such  an  argument?  Be 
cause  you  make  me  listen,  I  must  pay  atten 
tion!  Well,  to  show  you  what  a  friend  1  am, 
I  will." 

"Thank  you,  Mary,"  I  said,  holding  out  my 
hand.  "Thank  you,  dear.  You  '11  not  be  the 

253 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

worse  for  hearing  the  truth.  It  is  n't  like  you 
to  condemn  a  man  unheard." 

' '  I  heard  him. ' ' 

"You  heard  a  lunatic— he  told  me;  why  will 
you  call  up  the  worst  of  him  and  believe  only 
in  that?" 

She  sprang  up,  outraged.  "I  do  not  call  up 
the  worst  of  him!  That  is  a  cowardly  excuse 
—he  should  be  man  enough  to— 

"Wait:  I  never  meant  you  did  it  intention 
ally.  Can't  you  see  how  anxious  he  might  be 
to  please  you?  Can't  you  believe  that  if  he  did 
something  he  thought  would  please  you  greatly, 
and  you  called  him  a  rascal  for  it,  that  the 
worst  of  him  would  likely  come  on  top?" 

* '  Yes, ' '  she  answered  slowly ;  "  I  can  see  that 
—I  should,  I  know." 

"Of  course  you  would.  Now  listen.  I  have 
a  story  for  you,  that  your  love  of  kindness  and 
nobility  will  find  pleasure  in." 

Again  I  tried  Saxton's  method— there  is  n't 
a  better  one,  if  it  's  real  stuff  you  have  to  tell. 
254 


Red  Makes  a  Few  Remarks 

Very  quietly  I  put  it  to  her  as  he  had  to  me. 
She  had  less  color  when  I  finished. 

"If  that  is  the  truth,  it  was  noble,"  she  said, 
when  I  finished.  The  breath  fluttered  in  her 
throat. 

"It  is  the  truth.  Arthur  is  n't  too  good  to 
lie,  by  any  means,  but  he  has  too  much  pride 
and  courage  to  lie  about  a  thing  like  that. ' ' 

She  nodded  her  head  in  assent.  I  got  ex 
cited,  seeing  victory  in  sight,  but  had  sense 
enough  to  keep  cool.  I  knew,  even  at  that 
early  age,  there  's  snags  sometimes  underneath 
the  smoothest  water. 

She  sighed  as  if  the  life  of  her  went  out. 

"Impulse,"  she  said,  "a  noble  impulse— 
and  then?  an  ignoble  one,  followed  with  the 
same  determination." 

That  had  too  much  truth  in  it.  I  did  n  't  ap 
prove  of  his  drinking  himself  to  death,  because 
he  could  n't  have  what  he  wanted. 

' '  Yes, ' '  I  answered  smoothly,  ' '  and  what  he 
needs  is  a  strong  excuse  to  make  them  all  good 

255 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

—he  has  the  strength  to  do  it,  you  don't  deny 
that?" 

"He  has  strength  to  do  anything— there  is 
the  pity  of  it.  There  never  lived  a  man  who 
so  had  his  life  in  his  own  hand  as  Arthur  Sax- 
ton.  Would  you  have  me  marry  him  to  reform 
him!  Have  I  no  right  to  feel  proud,  on  my 
side?" 

"No,  to  the  first,"  says  I,  "and  yes,  to  the 
second.  He  has  waked  up  at  last,  I  feel  sure— 
if  only  you  could  believe  in  him  a  little  more." 

"Oh,  Will!"  she  said,  "that  is  what  I  fear 
the  most.  I  don't  care  if  he  demands  much, 
for  so  do  I,  but  to  be  dependent  that  way— 
I  cannot  trust  him,  till  he  trusts  himself. ' ' 

"Yes,  Mary,"  I  agreed;  "but  at  the  same 
time,  he  's  lots  more  of  a  man  than  the  average, 
handicap  him  with  all  his  faults!" 

She    answered   me   with    a    curious    smile. 

' '  Mine  is  an  unhappy  nature  in  one  way, ' '  she 

said;  "half  a  loaf  is  worse  than  no  bread  to 

me.    I  'd  rather  never  know  of  Paradise  than 

256 


Red  Makes  a  Few  Remarks 

see  and  lose  it."  She  threw  her  hands  out 
suddenly,  in  a  gesture  that  was  little  short  of 
agony. 

"Oh,  I  wish  sometimes  I  had  no  moral  sense 
at  all— that  I  could  just  live  and  be  happy— 
and  I  can  7  be  very  good  if  I  wish  that— that  's 
a  comfort."  She  turned  to  me.  "Now,  Will, 
I  have  opened  my  heart  to  you  as  I  could  not 
have  done  to  my  own  mother;  will  you 
believe  me  if  I  say  I  cannot  talk  about  this  any 
more?" 

"Sure,  sweetheart,"  I  said,  and  kissed  her. 
She  let  her  head  stay  on  my  shoulder. 

"You  are  a  great  comfort,  brother  Will," 
she  said.  The  tone  made  something  sting  in 
my  eyes.  Poor  little  woman,  fighting  it  out  all 
alone,  so  unhappy  under  the  smiles,  so  born 
to  be  happy! 

I  could  n't  speak  to  save  me.  She  looked  up 
at  my  face.  "  You  are  a  brave  and  noble  gen 
tleman,  brother  mine,"  she  said.  T  think  that 
would  have  finished  me  up— T  am  such  a 

257 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

darned  woman  at  times,  but  she  changed  quick 
as  lightning. 

"Let  's  play  with  the  children,"  she  said. 
1 1  We  Ve  had  enough  of  this. ' ' 

I  was  glad  to  scamper  around.  One  thing 
was  certain.  I  'd  hurt  Sax  none,  and  proved 
the  value  of  my  plan.  Another  thing  I  wanted 
to  know  I  learned  on  leaving. 

"Mary,"  I  said,  as  if  it  was  an  understood 
thing  between  us, ' '  why  did  Mr.  Belknap  speak 
against  Saxton?" 

She  fell  into  the  trap,  unthinking.  * l  Because 
he  wished  to  warn  me,  of  course.  And  in  spite 
of  all  you  say,  Will— forgive  me— he  is  a  man 
of  such  insight,  I  cannot  believe  him  altoge 
ther  wrong." 

"It  would  be  bad  if  Belknap  did  n't  turn  out 
the  man  you  think  him,  would  n  't  it  1 "  I  asked, 
innocently. 

' '  It  would, ' '  she  said.  And  with  that  I  came 
away. 

258 


XIV 

BROTHER    BELKNAP'S   REVOLUTION 

THE  next  thing  needed  in  my  calculations 
was  time.  My  three-day  vacation  ended 
Monday ;  I  had  to  have  an  extension  or  a  sure 
thing  on  another,  shortly.  I  was  ready  to  throw 
up  my  job,  but  I  felt  it  would  n't  come  to  that, 
likely,  so  I  pulled  for  home  and  Jim. 

At  the  store  Pedro  told  me  Jim  had  been 
there  yesterday  afternoon,  but  left  at  once  in 
no  pleasant  frame  of  mind.  Pedro  did  n't 
know  where  he  had  gone.  Took  out  toward  the 
east,  riding  fast. 

I  did  n't  know  what  to  do.  If  T  went  after 
him,  it  was  likely  1  'd  miss  him;  if  I  waited, 
he  might  n't  be  around  again  for  days. 

"What  ailed  him,  Pede?"  I  asked. 

259 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

4 'That  is  that  which  I  am  not  to  know," 
says  Pedro.  ' '  He  cuss  and  swear  mos '  fiercily. 
He  also  es-strike  one  stranger  hombre  who  has 
been  here  making  conversation  with  the  work 
ers.  Si,  he  strike  heem  verree  strong,  so  that 
the  stranger  does  not  know  anything  for  one 
hour.  He  also  say  he  will  to  shoot  that 
stranger  if  he  put  the  foot  on  thees  groun' 
again.  The  men  that  are  there  make  protesta 
tion  and  Senor  Holton  say,  'You  are  fools.' 
And  Pepe,  the  large  one,  say,  'I  am  not  a  fool,' 
and  Senor  Holton  say, 'No— you  are  a  jackass,' 
and  Pepe  say,  '  You  have  abused  us  much. '  I 
am  astonish  to  hear  that,  for  of  all  men  I  have 
seen  none  is  so  kind  to  the  people  as  Senor 
Holton;  and  I  am  moved  to  say,  'Pepe,  you 
lie!'  He  thereupon  strike  me  at  the  nose,  as 
you  see.  I  say, '  Pepe,  you  may  strike  my  nose, 
but  that  does  not  make  you  not  a  liar— a  liar 
is  what  you  are.'  And  Senor  Holton  say, 
'  Mind  them  not,  Pedro,  you  are  an  honest  man ; 
but  now  I  shall  to  abuse  them  for  the  fair 
260 


Brother  Belknap's  Revolution 

if  I  do  hear  one  cheep,'  and  he  draw  out  his 
peestol  and  say,  'Yap,  you  coyotes!  Let  me 
hear  you!'  and  there  is  such  silence  that  one 
may  hear  his  heart.  Then  Senor  Holton  say 
to  me,  'Pedro,  this  is  bad  business.  Mind  the 
store  the  best  you  can — I  must  ride.  If  they 
come  at  you  h'run  away— I  do  not  care  for 
these  goods,  and  you  have  spoken  up  like  a 
man.'  Pedro  smote  himself  upon  the  lung 
with  his  clenched  fist.  "H'run  T  shall  not," 
says  he.  "Thees  store  can  only  be  obtain  by 
making  the  es-step  over  my  corpsey. " 

' '  Corpsey"  sounded  kind  of  frivolous  for  the 
occasion.  However,  underneath  all  the  rolling 
eye  and  fine  large  gestures,  the  sand  of  the 
little  man  lay  strong.  I  did  n't  understand 
the  racket  at  all,  but  I  knew  it  meant  business 
or  Jim  would  never  have  taken  such  a  stand. 

"Why  did  n't  you  tell  me  this  first,  Pedro?" 
I  asked.  "T  might  have  gone  away  and  left 
you  alone." 

"That  was  what  T  try  to  weesh,"  said  he. 
261 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

''For  you  are  young,  and  there  is  life  before 
you.  These  are  b-a-a-d  fallows,  these ;  if  they 
keel  Pedro,  eet  ees  no  harm,  but  you  have  been 
kin'  to  me,  and  I  do  not  weesh  you  hurt.  So 
I  say,  I  shall  let  him  go ;  they  mus '  not  harm 
Beel;  and  then  I  feel  so  verree  lonesome,  and 
I  think,  He  shall  know  and  for  himself  decide. ' ' 

"Why,  you  darned  old  Guinea!"  I  yelled 
at  him,  "  d '  you  suppose  I  'd  leave  you  to  buck 
this  through  alone?  I  don't  know  what  got 
into  Jim  not  to  put  some  men  in  with  you." 

Pedro  shrugged  his  shoulders.  l '  Sefior  Hoi- 
ton  had  no  time— what  it  ees,  ees  emperative— 
and  for  those  men,  they  are  all  mad,  I  think. 
They  come  and  es-swear  at  me,  who  never 
have  done  them  injury— I,  never!  Who  can 
say  Pedro  harmed  him?  They  only  leave 
when  you  are  to  arrive." 

I  don't  know  why,  but  suddenly  it  came  upon 

me  that  we  were  stacked  against  a  crowd  of 

men— I  mean  it  came  right  real  to  me,  and  I 

sat  down  in  a  chair,  limp.     I  never  admired 

262 


Brother  Belknap's  Revolution 

a  man  more  than  I  did  Pedro,  at  that  moment. 
There  he  was,  the  little  man  I  so  often  laughed 
at,  quietly  going  about  his  business,  waiting 
for  a  crowd  to  come  and  kill  him!  I  did  n't 
mind  one  or  two,  or  perhaps  a  few  more  men, 
so  much,  but  the  crowd  threw  a  crimp  into 
me.  When  you  learn  how  much  bigger  a  cow 
ard  a  crowd  is,  than  any  one  man  in  it,  you  are 
not  so  troubled,  but  then !  Well,  it  was  the  first 
time  I  'd  been  right  down  terrified  in  my  life, 
and  it  was  awful.  I  raked  the  sweat  off  my 
forehead,  steadied  myself  the  best  I  could,  and 
says : 

"Well,  Pede,  we  're  in  for  it!" 

"Tiene  V.  razon!"  says  he;  "but  we  will 
to  do  what  we  can.  If  I  live,  always  shall  I 
remember  how  Beel  stay  with  me." 

I  Vc  heard  it  said  that  a  good  example  will 
steady  you  when  you  're  scart.  Out  of  my 
personal  experience  I  beg  to  differ.  I  got  mad 
at  Pedro  for  not  being  frightened;  and  the 
more  I  thought  how  well  he  behaved,  the  worse 
263 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

rattled  I  got.  I  sat  there,  in  a  hot  chill  every 
time  I  heard  a  noise  outdoors,  till  at  last  some 
sense  came  back  to  me.  l '  This  won 't  do ! "  says 
I.  ''Here,  Pede,  where  's  the  hot-water  bot 
tle?" 

He  handed  me  a  bottle  of  brandy.  I  put  the 
neck  to  my  neck  and  warmed  my  poor  soul. 
Lord!  but  it  tasted  good.  Dutch  courage  ain't 
on  the  same  shelf  with  real  courage,  but  it  's 
a  durned  sight  better  than  scart-to-death  in  a 
rumpus. 

I  had  n't  more  than  time  to  give  a  "hoo" 
of  satisfaction  and  put  the  bottle  down,  when 
there  came  a  running  and  a  yelling  down  the 
road.  Pede  and  I  jumped  for  the  door  to 
gether.  The  valley  lay  flat  between  the  hills, 
north  of  us,  and  you  could  see  a  mile  to  the 
turn  in  the  road.  Down  the  road  two  men 
were  running  for  their  lives,  a  screeching  gang 
after  them,  peppering  'em  with  rocks,  clubs, 
and  what  not.  Also  there  was  the  shine  of 
knives— the  shine  that  always  sickens  me.  I 
264. 


Brother  Belknap's  Revolution 

waited  for  a  gun-shot,  but  none  came.  The 
two  had  fifty  yards'  start,  and  they  were  n't 
losing  it,  if  they  could  help  it.  As  they  drew 
nearer  I  could  hear  remarks  about  Papists 
from  the  crowd.  In  a  second  I  saw  the  play- 
Brother  Belknap's  revolution! 

That  braced  me.  The  victims  ran  with  their 
arms  over  their  heads  for  protection ;  when 
one  dropped  his  arms  and  raised  his  head  to 
cry  for  help,  I  recognized  Tony  Gonzales,  the 
squarest,  nicest  man  in  the  place.  That  stead 
ied  me  more  yet.  Fifty  men  to  the  two  ! 

"Oomo  on,  Pedro!"  I  hollered.  We  each 
grabbed  a  pick-handle,  and  with  that  in  one 
hand  and  a  gun  in  the  other,  we  went  to  the 
door. 

"Beel, "  says  Pedro,  "let  us  to  remain  here. 
They  cannot  be  hurt  now,  for  they  run  verree 
fas'.  The  es-store  is  a  fort,  If  we  stay,  we 
do  better." 

I  took  in  the  situation.     Tony  and  his  mate 
were  keeping  distance  nobly.     I  suppose  they 
265 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

drew  a  clip  or  two  from  a  stone,  but  they 
were  in  no  deadly  danger  unless  the  crowd  got 
hold  of  them.  Pedro  was  n't  much  of  a  hand 
to  sell  groceries  and  truck,  but  he  was  a  durned 
good  general  when  it  came  to  war. 

"Queeck,  Beel!"  says  he.  "For  to  defend 
us  make  closed  the  windows  and  doors,  but  the 
one!" 

We  worked  sharp,  rolling  barrels  against 
the  doors  and  slapping  boxes  of  canned  goods 
against  the  window-shutters.  The  work  did 
me  a  power  of  good.  Anger  had  driven  out 
most  of  my  fear,  yet  getting  my  muscles  into 
use  was  needed  to  remove  the  rest  of  the  poi 
son  from  my  system. 

Next  I  broke  open  a  box  of  cartridges  and 
spread  them  on  the  counter,  while  Pedro 
loaded  revolvers  taken  from  the  stock.  By 
the  time  the  feet  drew  near,  we  were  in  fighting 
trim.  Another  cry  for  help  sounded  almost 
at  the  door.  Pede  and  I  rushed  out. 

"Get  in,  boys,"  I  said,  "and  grab  a  gun!" 
266 


Brother  Belknap's  Revolution 

They  ducked  under  my  arm  and  entered  the 
store. 

The  rest  drew  up  in  a  huddle,  a  ways  off, 
and  stopped. 

''Now,  gentlemen,"  I  said  in  the  best  Span 
ish  I  could  muster,  "what  's  the  matter?" 

I  got  no  answer,  but  bad  looks.  They  talked 
and  muttered  among  themselves,  and  shifted 
about,  with  ugly  motions— as  black  and  treach 
erous  a  mob  as  a  man  would  like  to  dream  of. 

My  temperature  went  right  up.  I  naturally 
despise  not  getting  an  answer  to  a  question. 
One  lad  shook  his  fist  and  growled  something. 

That  was  all.  I  wraited.  ' '  Once  more, ' '  says 
T,  "what  's  the  matter?"  Same  performance. 
I  shot  a  hole  through  the  hat  of  the  lad  who 
shook  his  fist.  "Third  and  last  call,"  says 
I,  "what  's  the  matter?"  but  they  broke  and 
ran. 

My  play  held  'em  for  a  minute.  Our  best 
show  was  to  take  the  top  hand  at  once,  so  I 
walked  down  to  them. 

267 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

"Now  I  want  to  know  what  ails  you  people," 
I  said,  getting  the  meaning  into  Spanish,  if  the 
words  were  a  little  mixed, ' '  and  I  want  to  know 
quick,  or  there  '11  be  a  fuss  right  here. ' ' 

A  big  feller  jeered  at  me:  "Put  down  the 
gun,  and  I  'II  show  you  what  's  the  matter," 
he  said. 

1 '  You  will  ? ' '  says  I,  parting  with  what  sense 
I  had.  "You  yellow-bellied  snake-in-the- 
grass!  You  will  show  a  white  man,  will  you? 
Come  on  out  here,  you  that  's  so  brave  in  a 
crowd ! ' ' 

I  chucked  the  gun  away  and  waited  for  him. 
I  got  just  what  I  might  have  expected— they 
all  come  for  me!  Cursing  my  fool  soul,  I 
jumped  for  the  gun.  I  almost  had  my  hand 
on  it  when  a  rock  took  me  behind  the  ear  and 
laid  me  on  the  grass.  It  was  up  to  Mr.  William 
De  La  Tour  Saunders  to  put  his  feet  under 
him  with  celerity  and  hike  out  of  that.  It  was 
painful— sufferin'  Moses !  How  I  hated  to  run 
from  that  crowd!  I  snorted,  but  run  was  the 
268 


Brother  Belknap's  Revolution 

word,  and  run  I  did,  with  them  hollering  and 
laughing  at  me.  Inside,  I  grabbed  two  of  the 
guns  from  the  counter,  called  to  Pedro  and 
the  other  two,  and  started  back.  I  met  the 
gang  right  at  the  door.  It  was  curious  how 
making  me  run  had  braved  them;  they  were 
for  tearing  everything  apart  now.  Well,  our 
meeting  was  a  surprise  to  both  parties.  I  Ve 
had  to  be  grateful  all  my  life  that  my  hands 
think  faster  than  my  head.  I  put  four  shots 
into  that  crowd  before  I  thought  at  all.  The 
man  who  picked  up  my  revolver  fired  and 
missed  me  from  a  three-foot  range.  I  got  some 
of  the  powder,  also  a  knife  in  the  shoulder,  but 
four  men  laid  out  discouraged  'em  and  they 
broke  again.  I  put  it  to  them  with  both  hands, 
Pedro  and  the  other  boys  cutting  in  before 
they  found  shelter. 

By  this  time  I  was  wild— wanted  to  go  after 
them  and  hunt  'em  out.  Pedro  and  the  other 
two  fastened  on  me  and  dragged  me  in. 

"More  shall  come,  Beel!"  cried  Pedro. 
269 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

"We  must  have  care— do  not  to  go,  I  im 
plore  ! " 

He  not  only  implored,  but  half-strangled  me ; 
they  hauled  me  back  and  shut  the  door. 

"Listen,  all,"  says  Pedro.  "This  is  not  the 
end.  Others  will  come  with  guns,  and  then !  — 
But  now  to  see  what  is  outside."  He  stationed 
us  each  where  we  could  peek  through  cracks, 
and  so  cover  the  store  from  all  sides.  There 
was  barrels  of  amunition,  General  Pedro  is 
sued  commands  to  blaze  away  at  a  sight. 

The  folks  outside  kept  up  a  stream  of  curs 
ing  and  abuse,  jeers  and  threats,  and  we  re 
turned  a  revolver  fire  just  as  effective.  It 
was  too  far  for  a  short  gun. 

We  had  two  rifles  in  the  shop.  I  was  n't 
then,  and  never  have  been,  as  good  a  shot  with 
a  rifle  as  with  a  pistol.  Gonzales,  though,  had 
been  a  hunter.  He  took  the  rifle  with  a  pleased 
smile. 

"You  make  me  run,"  says  he,  playfully,  to 
outdoors.  "Now  I  make  you  jump !  It  is  thus 

270 


Brother  Belknap's  Revolution 

we  amuse  ourselves."  A  man  showed  his  head, 
to  the  sound  of  an  instant  crash  from  the  rifle. 
He  jumped,  all  right. 

"The  old  church  shall  say  mass  for  your 
soul,  Juan,"  says  Gonzales.  "You  are  the 
best  dead  man  in  the  country. ' ' 

After  that,  they  were  careful.  I  thought 
they  'd  leave,  seeing  they  could  n't  do  any 
thing  with  us,  till  Pedro  explained  they  were 
probably  holding  us  till  armed  men  came.  I 
should  have  felt  dismal  once  more  at  this  news, 
if  I  'd  had  nothing  to  do.  The  darkened  store 
wrore  on  my  feelings.  One  feller  I  shot  wrig 
gled  in  a  funny  fashion  as  he  lay  on  the  ground. 
He  was  still  wriggling— I  could  see  him  every 
time  I  stopped  to  think.  He  gave  a  long  twist, 
like  a  snake,  bringing  his  face  to  the  light,  at 
the  last.  lie  looked  as  if  he  felt  perfectly 
disgusted.  He  had  n't  ought  to  have  looked 
that  way.  It  bothered  me. 

The  other  three  stood  the  gaff  of  waiting 
much  better  than  I.  In  fact,  I  was  frantic  in- 
271 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

side  me,  though  I  made  a  good  chest  of  it. 
"Pede,"  I  says,  "let  me  have  the  other  rifle— 
I  'm  going  scouting." 

"That  is  well,"  says  Gonzales.  "If  you  can 
get  up  on  the  hill  without  being  seen,  you  can 
drive  them  out,  and  we  shall  have  a  shot." 

So  I  took  the  rifle  and  squirmed  through  the 
brush  and  rocks  back  of  the  store  until  I  was 
a  hundred  yards  or  so  up  the  hill.  It  was  a 
steep  slant.  In  going  so  far  I  'd  risen  nearly 
a  hundred  feet.  I  could  see  part  of  our  be 
siegers  plain.  Some  ten  of  'em.  lay  behind 
boulders,  smoking  cigarettes  and  taking  it 
easy.  Another  batch  sat  under  the  bridge. 
The  rest  I  could  n't  see. 

I  had  a  particular  grudge  against  the  feller 
who  challenged  me  to  fight.  I  searched  care 
fully,  and  finally  made  him  out,  under  a  rock 
about  three  hundred  yards  away,  sitting  with 
his  back  to  me,  and  playing  a  game  with  the 
man  in  front  of  him. 

His  fat  back  made  a  corking  target.  I  rested 
272 


Brother  Belknap's  Revolution 

the  gun  between  two  stones  and  had  him  dead 
to  rights.  I  was  ready  to  listen  to  the  report 
and  see  him  fall  over,  when,  by  the  gods  of 
war!  my  finger  would  n't  pull  the  trigger.  I 
had  n't  the  least  feeling  about  killing  that 
treacherous  skunk,  so  far  as  I  knew,  but  all 
the  same,  I  could  not  pull  that  trigger.  I  was 
surprised,  plenty.  ' '  Why,  you  damn  fool ! "  I 
says  to  myself,  "what  's  eating  you!  That 
lad  would  'a'  slaughtered  your  entire  family, 
by  this  time ! ' ' 

True,  too,  but  it  did  n't  make  the  gun  go  off. 
It  's  mighty  queer  how  an  unexpected  "me" 
will  jump  out  of  you  at  times.  There  was  one 
Bill  Saunders  just  as  anxious  to  do  that  black 
guard  as  a  man  could  be,  and  there  was  an 
other—and  the  boss,  too— who  would  n't  stand 
for  it. 

I  cussed  between  my  teeth.  "If  you  'd  look 
at  me,  instead  of  turning  your  back,  you  dog ! ' ' 
I  whispered,  "I  'd  heap  you  up  quick."  I 
broke  out  into  a  sweat  of  shame,  knowing  how 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

rny  friends  were  putting  their  faith  in  my  gath 
ering  a  man  or  two.  I  could  have  cried  with 
mortification.  Suddenly  my  lad  jumped  up  and 
pointed,  forgetting  where  he  was.  The  next 
second  the  finger  jammed  into  the  ground,  and 
the  whang  of  Gonzales's  rifle  cut  through  the 
valley. 

I  looked  where  he  pointed.  Here  come  a 
string  of  men  with  guns,  dog-trotting.  I  up 
and  pasted  into  them.  The  shot  started  those 
below.  Some  jumped  up.  I  could  have  whaled 
it  to  them  all  right  now,  but  a  shell  jammed. 
Our  boys  socked  it  to  them  from  the  store, 
while  I  clawed  at  the  durned  cartridge.  Got 
it  out  with  my  knife  at  last  and  banged  away, 
first  below  and  then  at  the  approaching  sol 
diers.  I  dropped  a  man  and  the  soldiers  scat 
tered  behind  rocks  and  trees. 

There  was  no  use  staying  longer.    I  had  only 

three  cartridges  left ;  nothing  much  I  could  do 

anyhow,  as  they  would  sneak  up  from  this  on ; 

besides,  I  stood  to  get  cut  off  from  the  store, 

274 


Brother  Belknap's  Revolution 

so  I  carefully  picked  my  way  back,  not  wanting 
them  to  learn  there  was  no  one  on  the  hill.  In 
such  a  case  as  ours,  you  fight  for  time.  I  hoped 
nothing  from  time,  but  every  minute  you  lived 
was  clear  gain.  Out  here  in  the  country  pris 
oners  of  war  were  stood  against  a  wall. 

So  long  as  they  thought  we  had  men  on  the 
hill,  they  'd  be  cautious.  Likely  they  'd  send 
men  around  to  clear  the  hill,  first,  and  that 
would  give  us  some  minutes. 

The  other  boys  had  seen  the  arrival  of  the 
soldiers.  They  were  quiet,  but  hopeless.  Goii- 
zales  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  examined  his 
rifle.  ' '  How  many ! ' '  he  asked. 

"Soldiers  and  all,  or  just  soldiers!" 

"All." 

"Nigh  a  hundred." 

"Ay  dc  mi!  Adios  el  mundo!  Four  men 
against  a  hundred!  Well,  they  shall  speak  of 
us  after— not  a  hundred  will  they  be,  when 
we  leave. ' ' 

The  feeling  that  you  '11  leave  a  good  name 
275 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

behind  to  comfort  your  last  minutes,  is  a 
mighty  good  thing.  Wish  I  had  it.  It  did  n't 
matter  a  darn  to  me.  All  I  could  think  of  was 
that  they  should  n't  get  me— not  if  they  was 
a  million— and  I  proposed  to  work  on  those 
lines  with  force. 

"Perhaps  they  won't  jump  us,"  I  said  with 
more  wish  than  hope.  "If  they  try  any  other 
play,  we  can  hold  'em  a  week. ' ' 

I  had  some  contempt  for  those  soldiers.  I 
.  parted  with  it  later.  You  see,  they  were  bare 
foot,  ragged,  and  dirty.  Not  a  thing  marked 
'em  for  soldiers,  but  the  guns  and  the  orders. 
I  had  n't  seen  many  soldiers,  but  what  I  had 
seen  was  gay  with  uniforms  and  a  brass  band. 
Now,  if  they  'd  come  at  our  store  with  a  brass 
band,  it  would  have  been  something  like.  This 
was  only  a  rucus,  with  us  holding  the  working 
end  of  the  mule.  No  glory,  no  uniforms,  no 
band,  no  nothing,  but  just  getting  holes  shot 
in  you,  and  it  would  n  't  be  no  more  than  truth 
ful  for  me  to  admit  I  was  perfectly  contented 
with  my  hide  as  she  was. 
276 


Brother  Belknap's  Revolution 

We  strengthened  the  doors  and  windows  by 
piling  more  boxes  up,  leaving  only  holes  to 
shoot  through.  Then  we  waited.  The  dark 
heat  in  the  store  just  melted  you;  outside  the 
sun  hammered  fit  to  knock  your  eye  out.  When 
it  comes  hot  and  still— deadly  still— I  can  re 
member  that  hour's  waiting  in  the  store.  I 
could  n't  hold  on  to  what  I  was  thinking  of 
for  a  minute ;  all  my  ideas  flipped  around  like 
scart  birds,  and  I  sweat  and  sweat,  and  I  was 
sick  at  my  stomach,  and  the  man  I  shot  kept 
squirming.  It  was  the  same  as  sitting  up  in 
bed  to  find  out  your  nightmare  is  real.  To 
the  devil  with  waiting!  I  tried  to  clamp  my 
attention  on  mother,  on  Mary,  on  everybody 
I  knew.  Useless.  I  did  n't  seem  to  know  any 
body—they  were  only  jokes,  and  mostly,  the 
faces,  as  they  skipped  by,  turned  on  me  and 
grinned.  At  the  same  time  I  kept  talking  with 
the  other  boys  and  even  laughed  once  in  a 
while.  T  know  they  thought  T  was  cool  as  a 
watermelon.  T  'm  even  with  them  there;  T 
thought  they  were,  too. 

277 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

When  Gonzales  called,  with  a  click  in  his 
voice,  "Hist!  Quid' owl  They  come!"  I 
could  have  raised  both  hands  to  heaven  in 
thanks.  There  's  nothing  one-eighth  as  bad 
in  getting  killed  as  sitting  around  waiting 
for  it. 

I  jumped  for  my  window.  There  ain't  a 
bit  of  what  was  in  front  of  me  but  what  's 
with  me  to  stay.  I  could  only  see  a  small 
space  that  day— anything  that  was  n't  in 
a  ten-foot  circle  was  dark.  I  leave  the 
why  to  the  doctors.  It  never  troubled  me 
again. 

I  had  the  south  window,  kind  of  slantwise 
facing  the  road,  and  about  twenty  foot  from 
it,  where  it  passed  the  store.  There  was  a 
breastwork  of  canned  goods  shoulder  high, 
with  lots  of  loose  cartridges  spread  on  the 
inner  top  box.  The  box  near  me  was  open, 
and  red  labels  on  quart  cans  of  tomatoes  shone 
out—"  Pride  of  the  Garden. ' '  I  wonder  if  the 
man  that  raised  'em,  or  he  that  canned  'em, 
278 


Brother  Belknap's  Revolution 

ever  imagined  they  were  going  to  become  the 
bulwarks  of  the  State  of  Panama? 

The  shutters  were  heavy,  with  holes  in  'em 
about  four  inches  wide,  which  you  could  cover 
with  a  round  piece  of  wood  that  swung  on  a 
screw.  These  holes  were  right  in  height  for 
me  to  shoot  through.  The  other  boys  had  to 
stand  on  boxes,  being  shorter. 

I  took  a  peep  through  my  gun-hole.  There 
come  the  rebels,  flap-flapping  down  the  road 
in  their  bare  feet,  trailing  their  guns,  their 
wide-brimmed  hats  shaking  comical.  And  I 
felt  happy  when  I  saw  it.  These  were  real 
men,  and  for  the  last  hour  I  'd  been  fighting 
ghosts.  We  did  n't  want  'em  to  hit  us  in  a 
body,  so  I  called  cheerful  to  the  other  boys, 
"Bet  you  a  can  of  tomatoes  I  draw  first 
blood!"  and  let  her  flicker  through  the  loop 
hole. 


279 


XV 

TOMATOES   BY   THE   QUART 

THE  barefoot  soldiers  expected  to  walk 
right  through  us.  They  come  straight 
and  fairly  bunched,  while  we  dropped  them. 
They  kept  coming  and  we  kept  dropping  them. 
Streaks  of  white  flew  out  of  the  shutters  and 
whiskers  grew  on  the  walls,  but  not  a  man  of 
us  was  touched,  while  we  laid  them  out  some 
thing  awful. 

It  was  n't  we  was  crack  shots,  neither,  ex 
cepting  Gonzales.  We  were,  for  all  practical 
purposes,  cool. 

Speaking  for  myself,  I  felt  neither  hope  nor 
fear.  I  had  but  one  ambition— to  make  the 
party  that  arrived  as  small  as  possible.  It 
would  surprise  me  to  learn  that  our  boys 
missed  two  shots  out  of  five.  And  there  is  n't 
280 


Tomatoes  by  the  Quart 

any  crowd,  white,  brown,  nor  black,  that  can 
stand  a  gaffing  like  that. 

They  had  no  plan.  As  I  say,  they  thought 
all  they  had  to  do  was  walk  up  and  take  us. 
When  we  put  every  third  man  on  the  grass, 
they  halted,  bunching  closer,  and  we  pumped  it 
to  'em  for  keeps.  They  melted  down  the  road, 
panic-struck. 

We  had  no  cheers  of  victory,  being  much  too 
busy.  By  just  keeping  industriously  at  work 
instead  of  hollering  we  put  three  or  four  more 
out  of  the  game.  It  was  business,  for  us. 

The  smoke  drifted  slowly  up  the  hillside; 
some  of  the  wounded  men  began  hollerin'  for 
water;  one  got  to  his  knees  and  emptied  his 
gun  at  us.  Gonzales  was  for  removing  him, 
but  I  held  his  hand.  ' '  Let  him  ease  his  mind, ' ' 
I  said,  "he  can't  hit  anything."  And  just  to 
make  me  out  a  liar,  the  beggar  covered  me  with 
splinters  from  the  shutter.  Gonzales  shot,  and 
that  was  over.  I  began  to  wish  they  'd  hustle 
us  again. 

28l 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

The  sweat  poured  off  us.  We  panted  like 
running  dogs.  Outside  there,  where  the  val 
ley  rippled  with  sun-heat,  all  was  still,  except 
that  cry— " Water!  water!  For  the  love  of 
God,  water!"  I  Ve  needed  water  since.  I 
know  what  that  screech  means.  Lord!  that 
hour!— a  blaze  of  sun,  blue  shadows,  wisps  of 
smoke  curling  up  the  hill,  and  the  lonesome  cry 
in  the  big  silence— "Water!  water!  For  the 
love  of  God,  water ! ' '  That  's  what  it  come  to ; 
them  fellers  did  n't  care  much  for  victory— 
they  wanted  water. 

It  wore  on  me,  like  the  barking  of  a  dog. 
I  grabbed  the  water-pail  and  started  for  the 
door. 

"Here!"  cries  Pedro,  "what  will  you 
make?" 

"I  want  to  stop  that  noise." 

' '  Put  down  the  pail ! ' '  says  Pedro.  ' '  Foolish 
fellow!  Do  you  not  know  they  keel  you  at 
once  ? ' ' 

"Pede,"  I  says,  "I  can't  sit  here  and  hear 
282 


Tomatoes  by  the  Quart 

'em  holler  like  that— there  's  no  damn  use  in 
talking." 

"Listen,"  says  Pedro,  grabbing  me  by  the 
coat.  "See  what  you  do;  here  are  friends; 
for  them  you  care  not.  Eef  you  are  keeled, 
so  much  the  worse  are  we— are  we  not  more 
than  they?  You  leave  us,  and  you  shall  be 
keeled  and  our  hope  goes— I  ask  you,  is  that 
good  I ' ' 

"No,"  I  says,  putting  down  the  pail.  "It 
ain't,  Pede.  You  're  right,"  and  one  of  'em 
outside  struck  a  new  note  that  stuck  in  me  and 
quivered.  "Remember,"  I  says,  "that  I  died 
admitting  you  were  right."  Darn  it,  T  was 
risking  my  own  hide.  But  Pede  had  the  truth 
of  it.  I  ought  n't  to  have  done  it.  So  I 
grabbed  the  pail  and  went  out. 

I  was  considerable  shot  at,  but  not  by  the 
wounded  men. 

The  first  lad  was  a  shock-headed  half-Injun, 
with  a  face  to  scare  a  mule,  lie  was  blue-black 
from  loss  of  blood.  "Drink,  pretty  creature, 

283 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

drink, ' '  says  I.  He  grabbed  the  pail  and  pro 
ceeded  to  surround  the  contents.  "Whoa, 
there ! ' '  says  I,  ' '  there  are  others ! "  I  had  to 
yank  the  pail  away  from  him.  He  looked  at 
me  with  his  fevered  eyes,  and  held  out  his  big, 
gray,  quivering  hands— "For  the  love  of  God, 
Senor,  poquito—poquito!" 

' '  No  more  for  you, ' '  I  said,  and  he  slumped 
back,  his  jaw  shaking.  It  was  a  waste  of  water, 
really;  he  'd  been  bored  plumb  center.  So  I 
went  the  rounds,  having  to  fight  'em  away 
as  if  they  was  wolves.  Lord !  how  they  wanted 
that  water ! 

When  I  got  to  next  to  the  last  man,  some  bet 
ter  marksmen  up  the  road  shot  my  hat  off. 
That  riled  me.  It  would  make  anybody  mad. 
I  stopped  on  the  spot  and  expressed  my  senti 
ments. 

"You  're  a  nice  lot  of  rosy-cheeked  gentle 
men,  you  are, ' '  says  I.  ' '  You  damned  greasy, 
smelly,  flat-footed  mix  of  bad  Injun  and  bad 
white!  If  I  could  get  hands  on  one  of  you, 
284 


Tomatoes  by  the  Quart 

I  'd  shred  him  so  fine  he  'd  float  on  the  breeze. 
Now,  you  sons  of  calamity,  you  shoot  at  me 
once  more,  and  I  '11  call  on  you!" 

I  was  ready  to  go  right  up.  I  waited  a  min 
ute,  but  no  more  shots  came. 

"All  right,"  says  I.  "Sin  vergiienza!"  and 
more  I  won't  repeat.  The  Spaniard  has  nice 
ideas  about  a  good  many  things,  but  he  cusses 
by  the  hog-pen.  So  I  told  'em  what  I  could 
remember  that  was  disrespectful,  fed  the  last 
man  his  water,  and  returned.  J  stopped  to 
look  at  my  first  man.  He  'd  passed  on.  Well, 
I  was  n't  sorry  he  'd  had  a  drink. 

"Ha-ha,  Pede!"  says  I  when  I  got  back, 
"I  fooled  you!" 

"By  one  eench!"  says  he,  looking  at  my 
hat. 

"Inch  is  as  good  as  a  mile,  and  that  cussed 
noise  is  stopped  for  a  while,  anyhow." 

A  stone  rattled  back  of  us. 

' '  Look  to  the  doors,  quick ! ' '  says  Pedro. 

We  hopped  to  our  places. 
285 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

"Many  coming  down  the  hill!"  says  Gon- 
zales. 

It  was  n't  that  I  had  scared  or  impressed  my 
friends  by  my  oration  that  they  had  n't  shot 
further ;  no,  they  simply  took  advantage  of  the 
opportunity  to  work  a  sneak  on  us  from  be 
hind.  I  call  that  low-down.  Howsomever,  it 
did  n't  matter  what  I  called  it.  They  were  at 
our  back  door,  knocking  hard. 

Skipping  gaily  from  tree  to  rock,  they  was 
full  as  well  sheltered  as  we.  Worst  of  all, 
when  the  store  was  built,  the  stones  from  the 
cellar  had  been  placed  in  a  row  behind— not 
fifteen  feet  from  the  back  door.  There  was 
no  way  under  heaven  we  could  keep  them  from 
lining  up  behind  that  stone  wall,  and  hitting 
us  all  in  a  lump  when  they  got  ready. 

"We  shut  and  barricaded  the  front  door.  That 
side  of  the  store  must  take  care  of  itself.  We 
simply  had  to  put  all  hands  to  meet  the  rush. 

In  a  few  minutes,  stones,  clubs,  and  a  few 
shots  fell  on  the  front  of  the  store,  to  draw  us 
286 


Tomatoes  by  the  Quart 

—this  was  the  other  lads,  not  the  soldiers. 
Gonzales  made  a  quick  move,  fired  half  a  dozen 
shots  in  that  direction,  and  then  came  back. 

A  white  handkerchief  on  a  stick  waved  be 
hind  the  wall. 

"We  wish  to  talk!"  said  a  voice. 

' '  Talk  later,  we  're  busy  now ! ' '  says  Pedro. 

"We  shall  spare  your  lives,  if  you  yield  the 
store.  We  only  wish  to  destroy  this  because 
it  belongs  to  Holton,  who  supports  the  iniqui 
tous,  the  government  that  now  is.  On  our 
word  of  honor,  you  shall  live,  if  you  yield  the 
store. ' ' 

"Well,"  whispered  Pedro  to  us,  "what  do 
you  say?" 

"Tell  him  the  fortune-teller  fooled  him," 
says  I. 

"Tell  him  to  go  to  hell,"  says  Gonzales. 

"It  is  a  trick,"  says  the  other  man. 

"So  think  I,"  says  Pedro.  He  called  aloud: 
"We  are  large  healthy  men.  To  make  us  live 
is  necessary  we  have  more  than  your  word  of 
287 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

honor— do  not  play  further,  cowards  that  you 
are!  The  store  you  may  have  when  we  give 
it  to  you.  We  will  kill  you  all— all ! ' ' 

All  four  of  us  yelled  and  hooted  at  'em.  We 
were  strung  tight  now.  Thirty-odd  men  ready 
to  climb  at  you,  fifteen  feet  away,  thirty  or 
forty  more  all  ready  to  whack  at  you  from 
behind,  takes  the  slack  out. 

There  was  just  one  second  of  hush,  and  then 
hell  bu'st  her  b'iler.  Lord!  Lord!  Of  all  the 
banging  and  yelling  and  smashing  you  ever 
did  hear!  Noise  enough  for  Gettysburg. 
They  come  at  us  from  all  around.  We  scram 
bled  like  monkeys,  shooting;  jumping  else 
where;  shooting  again— zip,  zip,  zip— fast  as 
you  could  clap  your  hands.  They  bored  in  so 
they  could  hammer  on  the  door.  I  was  helping 
there  until  I  heard  a  crash  from  my  window, 
and  saw  a  head  coming  in.  I  caved  that  head 
with  my  rifle-barrel  and  fired  into  a  swarm 
over  the  remains.  They  fired  right  back 
again ;  lead  sung  like  a  bees '  nest.  Flame  and 
288 


Tomatoes  by  the  Quart 

smoke  spurted  out  all  over.  You  could  n't  see 
any  more  in  the  store.  I  snapped  at  the  crowd 
until  I  found  there  was  no  results,  my  maga 
zine  being  empty;  and,  there  scarcely  being 
time  to  load,  I  poked  'em  with  the  muzzle.  In 
the  middle  of  this  razzle-dazzle  come  another 
crash  and  a  flood  of  light.  I  saw  the  front  door 
down  ;  men  tumbling  through  the  opening. 

I  screeched  to  the  other  boys,  grabbed  cans 
of  tomatoes,  and  pasted  the  heap.  It  sounds 
like  a  funny  weapon,  but  I  want  you  to  under 
stand  that  when  an  arm  like  mine  heaves  a 
quart  can  of  tomatoes  at  you,  some  little  time 
will  pass  before  you  see  the  joke.  I  hit  one 
man  under  the  nose  and  lifted  him  three  feet. 

I  followed  this  up  witli  a  box  in  one  lump, 
clubbed  my  rifle,  and  lit  into  'em.  It  was  then 
that  one  of  our  boys  shot  me  in  the  leg  by  mis 
take.  You  could  n't  tell  what  you  were  doing. 
It  was  all  a  mess  of  noise  and  lunacy.  The  leg- 
shot  brought  me  to  my  knees  and  the  gang 
atop.  I  worked  lively  before  I  was  free.  Some- 

289 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

how  I  got  a  knife— I  '11  never  tell  for  sure  how, 
nor  when.  But  at  last  I  was  loose  with  a  crowd 
in  front  looking  at  me  and  calling  for  guns. 

"Beel,  Beel!  Help!"  called  Pedro.  How 
was  I  to  help  ?  The  moment  I  turned  my  back 
that  outfit  would  swarm  in. 

It  was  all  over.  I  heard  Gonzales  curse 
above  all  the  other  noises.  And  then,  as  I 
stood  there,  sick,  knowing  I  must  drop  in  a 
minute,  I  saw  a  change  on  the  faces  in  front 
of  me.  Things  were  swimming  considerable 
and  I  smiled  at  my  own  foolishness.  I  must 
have  lost  sight  for  a  second,  for  when  I  saw 
again,  the  crowd  was  leaving,  tight  as  they 
could  pelt. 

As  I  gracefully  put  my  ear  in  a  spittoon,  I 
heard  a  tremendous  firing,  and  the  next  minute, 
through  the  doorway,  beheld  the  soles  of  bare 
footed  soldiers'  feet. 

Somebody  shook  me  by  the  shoulders.  I 
came  out  of  dreamland  long  enough  to  see 
Pedro  with  the  tears  running  down  his  face. 
290 


Tomatoes  by  the  Quart 

"Beel!"  he  screamed;  "Beel!  by  the  mercy  of 
God,  it  is  Seiior  Holton  with  men ! ' ' 

Then  his  voice  changed.  "What  ees  eet? 
You  are  hurt,  no  I ' ' 

"No,"  says  I.  "I  just  wanted  to  listen  to 
the  spittoon." 

I  reckon  that  joke  was  too  much  for  me,  in 
my  condition.  It  takes  a  strong  man  to  stand 
the  wear  of  things  like  that.  Anyhow,  my  next 
appearance  in  active  life  found  me  all 
bandaged  up  neat  as  a  Sailors'  Home,  and  a 
very  nice-looking  gentleman  holding  my  wrist 
with  one  hand,  with  a  glass  of  truck  to 
throw  into  me  in  the  other,  and  Jim  was 
swearing  a  prayer  to  the  doctor  not  to  let  me 
go. 

"Oh,  I  was  n't  thinking  of  going  anywhere," 
says  I,  to  relieve  his  mind.  "What  are  you 
laughing  at  ?  I  was  n  't. " 

"That  's  right,  Bill,"  says  Jim,  taking  my 
hand.  ' '  Just  stay  right  here. ' ' 

The  doctor  fed  me  something  that  I  felt  clear 
291 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

down  to  my  toes,  still  keeping  his  hand  on  the 
wrist. 

"Good!"  says  he.  "The  effect  of  shock  is 
over— it  's  only  the  lost  blood  now— he  must 
have  lost  a  gallon,  from  his  appearance." 

"Durn  careless  of  me,"  says  I,  still  hazy. 
"But  what  in  thunder  am  I  doing  here! 
What  's  all  this  about!" 

"Lie  down,  Bill,"  says  Jim.  "You  have 
three  knife-cuts  and  four  bullet-holes  in  you." 

' '  I  have  ? ' '  says  I,  rousing  up.  ' '  Well,  then, 
why  did  n't  I  holler  for  water?" 

' '  You  did, ' '  says  Jim. 

' '  There,  there ! ' '  says  the  doctor.  '  *  No  more 
talk !  Lie  still,  young  man,  and  sleep,  if  you 
can. ' ' 

It  was  two  days  later  when  I  got  particulars. 
Seems  I  was  out  of  my  head  for  four  hours,  and 
like  to  die  any  minute ;  that  I  had  a  hole  in  the 
lower  leg,  another  in  the  hip,  a  streak  across 
the  top  of  my  head,  and  a  bullet  in  the  shoul 
der.  Also  a  slash  across  the  right  hand,  and 
292 


Tomatoes  by  the  Quart 

another  on  the  right  forearm,  and  a  stab  in  the 
same  upper  arm.  I  suppose  that  was  during 
the  hand-to-hand  at  the  window  and  the  door. 
I  have  a  faint  memory  of  getting  the  knife  by 
pulling  it  out  of  my  own  arm.  But  the  bullet- 
holes  knocked  me.  I  don't  remember  get 
ting  shot  at  all — only  a  dizziness  when  one 
man  fired  in  my  face.  I  guess  that  was  the 
streak  across  the  head. 

I  was  the  star  performer.  The  other  boys 
drew  a  couple  of  holes  apiece  or  so.  Gonzales 
was  n't  even  laid  up,  though  Pedro  had  his  arm 
shattered. 

Well,  they  kept  me  quiet,  although  I  was 
crazy  to  talk.  At  the  third  day  I  demanded 
food,  instead  of  swill.  The  doctor  looked  trou 
bled  and  shook  his  head. 

"See  here,  Doc,"  says  I,  "how  am  I  going 
to  manufacture  good  new  blood,  without  the 
raw  material  ?  Just  let  me  have  a  half-a-dozen 
eggs  and  a  hunk  of  bacon  and  a  loaf  of  bread, 
and  I  '11  do  credit  to  you." 

293 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

He  snorted  at  the  idea,  but  I  begged  so  hard 
he  says  at  last:  "Well,  all  right;  you  are  the 
toughest  piece  of  humanity  I  ever  struck; 
maybe  it  will  do  you  good. ' ' 

When  I  got  outside  that  first  square  meal, 
William  De  La  Tour  Saunders  felt  less  naked 
and  ashamed  inside  of  him,  and  proceeded  to 
get  better  a  mile  a  minute. 

The  fourth  day  I  could  sit  up  and  hear  Jim 
tell  me  all  about  it. 

He  had  found  a  feller  in  the  camp  preaching 
revolution.  For  some  time  this  had  been  ex 
pected.  It  was  known  that  a  General  Zampeto 
was  setting  up  for  President,  and  it  was  also 
known  that  Belknap  was  backing  him,  although 
he  took  great  care  not  to  be  mixed  in  it  by 
name.  But  Zampeto  and  Belknap  had  fooled 
our  crowd  plenty,  by  being  all  ready  for  action 
when  it  was  supposed  they  were  just  starting 
in. 

When  Jim  caught  and  thumped  that  first 
revolutionist,  he  tumbled  at  once  that  things 
294 


Tomatoes  by  the  Quart 

were  about  to  boil,  so  lie  flew  for  help.  His 
camp  was  a  sort  of  turning-point.  The  two 
sides  were  about  evenly  divided  as  to  forces, 
and,  as  Jim  worked  nearly  three  hundred  men, 
it  meant  a  great  deal  which  side  they  fought  on. 

Jim's  men  were  mainly  peaceful,  quiet  fel 
lows,  like  Gonzales  and  that  other  feller— 
(Pepe  something-or-other— I  don't  know  as  I 
ever  learned  his  full  name)— and  Jim  had 
great  authority  with  them.  If  the  rebels 
smashed  Jim  on  the  start,  his  men  would  fall 
in  on  the  winning  side,  or  at  worst  remain 
neutral.  Neither  Zampeto  nor  Jim  had  the 
least  idea  they  'd  fight  hard— it  was  just  the 
moral  effect  of  it,  and  then,  too,  the  supplies 
in  the  store  were  valuable. 

Jim  could  have  rounded  up  enough  of  the 
boys  to  lick  the  hide  off  this  gang  of  rebels,  if  it 
was  n't,  as  I  said,  that,  knowing  'em  to  be  nice 
quiet  lads,  like  Pedro,  he  felt  sure  they  'd  quit 
in  a  mess.  "And  never  will  I  be  such  a  fool  as 
that  again,"  says  Jim.  "I  knew  you  'd  give 

295 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

'em  war,  but  to  think  of  Pedro !  I  told  him  to 
run  and  save  himself ! ' ' 

Our  boys,  being  scattered  and  without  a 
leader,  simply  had  to  submit  to  being  chased 
out  of  the  country.  Chance  led  Gonzales  and 
Pepe  to  fly  to  the  store. 

So  much  for  us.  No  one  knew  what  was 
doing  in  Panama.  The  country  was  full  of 
rebels  around  us,  and  Jim  found  himself  too 
busy  gathering  an  army  to  ride  to  town  and 
see. 

He  finally  had  some  three  or  four  hundred 
men,  armed  after  a  fashion,  that  he  drilled 
from  morning  till  night. 

And  here  was  I,  stuck  in  bed !  Doc  would  n  't 
let  me  try  the  game  leg,  although  I  felt  sure 
it  would  hold  me. 

"You  stay  there  till  I  tell  you,"  says  he, 
1  i  and  then  you  '11  get  up  and  be  useful ;  if  you 
try  now,  you  '11  only  go  back  again  to  be  a 
nuisance  to  your  friends. ' ' 

He  put  it  that  way  to  make  it  a  cinch  I  'd 
296 


Tomatoes  by  the  Quart 

stay.  Nobody  ever  was  kinder  than  him  and 
the  rest.  Each  day  some  one  was  with  me  to 
play  cards,  or  checkers,  or  talk.  Old  Jim 
could  n't  do  enough  for  me.  I  think  he  'd 
spent  all  his  time  in  the  house  if  it  was  n  't  that 
he  must  take  hold  outside.  ' '  Boy,  I  know  what 
you  did  for  me,"  he  said.  "There  ain't  no 
use  talking  about  it  between  us,  but  what  I 
have  is  yours." 

Just  the  same,  I  knew  that  leg  was  all  right, 
so  one  day,  when  I  found  myself  alone,  I  got 
up  to  walk  to  the  water-pail.  I  laid  down  on 
the  floor  so  hard  I  near  bu'sted  my  nose. 
"Guess  I  don't  want  any  drink,"  thinks  I. 
"I  '11  go  to  bed,  instead."  I  could  n't  make 
that,  neither.  My  arms  only  held  me  for  a 
second,  then  they  sprung  out  at  the  elbow.  I 
sweat  and  swore  at  the  cussed  contraptions 
that  would  n't  work.  Tears  of  rage  come  free 
and  fast.  Them  arms  and  legs  of  mine  had 
served  me  so  long,  I  could  n't  believe  they  'd 
gone  back  on  me  like  that,  and  I  was  so 
297 


Plain  Mary  Sniith 

ashamed  to  have  the  doctor  come  and  ketch  me 
that  I  flew  into  a  fit,  foarnin'  and  fumin'  and 
snarlin'  like  a  trapped  bear. 

It  was  then  the  doctor  entered  on  the  scene. 
What  he  said  was  never  intended  to  be  re 
peated.  Lord  save  us !  He  put  my  case  in 
juicy  words ! 

"Now,  you  red-headed  young  fool!"  says 
he,  as  he  rolled  me  in  bed,  * '  I  want  you  to  un 
derstand  I  'd  beat  your  head  off,  if  you  were 
a  well  man,  for  this  trick!"  He  shook  his  fist 
under  my  nose.  "Wait  till  you  get  up!" 
says  he. 

"Ain't  I?"  says  I,  feeling  good-natured 
once  more  to  see  him  in  such  a  wax.  "Ain't 
I  waiting!" 

"I  won't  talk  to  you!"  says  he,  and  slams 
himself  out  of  the  room. 


298 


XVI 

RED  PLAYS  TRUMPS 

THINGS  went  fast  before  I  was  around 
again.  Jim  met  five  hundred  men  sent 
out  by  Zampeto  to  clear  the  country,  and 
killed  or  captured  every  man  of  'em.  The 
prisoners  he  penned  close,  but  fed  well,  to  teach 
'em  white  ways. 

Then  he  sent  deceiving  messengers  back  to 
Zampeto,  to  report  how  well  the  rebel  army 
was  doing.  Victory  kept  perching  on  her 
standard  till  it  was  near  worn  out.  But,  all  the 
same,  another  detachment,  working  to  the  east, 
to  unite  further  south  with  the  first  body  and 
sweep  back  toward  the  capital,  would  do  excel 
lently.  The  detachment  was  sent  by  Zampeto 
and  gobbled  the  same  as  before.  More  victor- 
299 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

ies  were  reported  to  the  home  rebel  govern 
ment,  and  assurances  given  that  with  another 
body,  the  three  could  descend  on  that  part  of 
the  city  held  by  Perez  and  Orinez  and  crush  it 
between  their  forces.  Once  more  did  Zam- 
peto  approve,  to  his  bad  fortune.  And  this 
did  him  up.  It  was  all  over  with  Belknap, 
Zampeto  &  Co.,  except  the  actual  capture  of 
their  part  of  the  town.  They  held  Santa  Ana 
and  the  church,  the  time-respected  custom  with 
revolutions. 

Zampeto  must  have  been  a  plumb  fool.  I 
saw  him  afterward— a  fat,  pompous  man  with 
a  rolling,  glaring  eye.  If  Belknap  had  been 
able  to  step  in,  in  person,  we  should  n't  have 
had  a  walk  over ;  but  while  Zampeto  was  agree 
able  to  advice  in  the  beginning,  he  soon  suf 
fered  from  cabeza  grande,  which  swell-headed 
state  Jim's  reports  of  victories  raised  to  a 
fearful  size,  and  Belknap  could  do  nothing  with 
him. 

His  losses  were  tremendous  for  that  country, 
300 


Red  Plays  Trumps 

and  there  he  sat  at  home,  serene  in  the  belief 
of  a  conqueror !  We  had  a  cinch.  Not  a  thing 
to  do  but  chase  them  out  of  their  holes ! 

I  had  my  plans  concerning  Saxton  and 
Mary,  so  Jim  held  the  final  attack  on  the  city 
until  I  was  able  to  ride.  Then  he  sent  word 
to  Perez  and  our  army  started— not  in  mass, 
because  somebody  in  the  rebel  army  might 
have  sense  enough  to  scout  a  little,  but  by 
fives  and  tens,  slipping  along  back  ways  and 
short  cuts  until  Belknap  and  Zampeto  were 
surrounded  on  the  outside  by  two  to  one, 
and  faced  by  an  equal  force  in  numbers,  and 
a  far  superior  in  courage  and  ability,  from 
within. 

I  got  Oririez  and  Perez  to  help  me  in  the  last 
act.  We  three  wormed  our  way  into  the  rebel 
town,  early  one  morning,  lying  quiet  in  a  cellar 
until  evening  came.  Strange  to  say,  the  night 
before,  Saxton  met  with  an  accident.  I  was 
handling  a  revolver  and  it  went  off,  somehow 
or  other,  and  burnt  him  across  the  back. 
3OI 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

"Christopher  Columbus,  Bill!"  says  he,  "what 
a  careless  cuss  you  are!  You  Ve  put  me  out 
of  commission!"  Gracious,  but  I  was  sorry! 
Yet,  being  the  guilty  party,  I  could  n't  see 
where  with  decency  I  might  do  less  than  carry 
the  word  to  Mary.  That  's  one  reason  why  we 
went  into  the  rebels'  camp.  The  other  had  to 
do  with  Belknap.  He  was  easily  capable  of 
explaining  things  to  his  own  credit,  as  long  as 
he  did  all  the  talking.  Now  I  wanted  a  hand 
in  the  conversation.  We  hid  in  the  trees  back 
of  the  fountain.  Soldiers  came  and  went. 
Zampeto  himself,  looking  like  a  traveling 
jewelry-store,  made  a  visit,  but  all  hands  were 
so  secure  in  the  belief  of  the  wonderful  suc 
cess  of  the  cause  that  they  never  suspected  the 
existence  of  three  enemies  in  the  same  garden— 
or  even  in  the  same  one  hundred  square  miles, 
for  the  matter  of  that.  At  last  we  saw  Belknap ; 
he  came  to  the  door  with  Zampeto.  Behind 
him  we  saw  the  women-folk.  One  looked  like 
Mary,  but  I  could  n't  be  sure.  Every  time 
302 


Red  Plays  Trumps 

she  moved  somebody  stuck  his  head  in  the  way. 
At  last  Zampeto  dropped  something,  and  as 
he  stooped  to  pick  it  up,  I  saw  Mary  plainly. 
She  looked  thin  and  worn,  poor  girl.  Certain 
that  both  were  in  the  house,  I  made  a  quick 
sneak  across  to  the  kitchen  window,  up  the 
shutters,  and  in  at  a  window  on  the  second 
floor.  Mary  had  told  me  the  room  Belknap 
kept  as  his  private  office.  It  was  that  window 
I  went  in. 

I  heard  my  man's  heavy  step  in  the  hall,  as 
I  gathered  myself.  I  heard  Mary's  voice  an 
swer  him  in  a  sad  and  lifeless  tone.  "I  hope 
it  will  soon  be  over— it  seems  terrible,  terrible! 
Although  the  end  may  be  good."  I  heard  her 
door  shut,  and,  Belknap  coming  again,  I  got 
my  gun  ready,  put  on  a  bashful  expression, 
and  waited.  I  do  not  lie  when  I  say  that  Mr. 
Belknap  was  astonished  to  find  me  in  his  pri 
vate  room.  That  expression  was  one  of  the 
few  honest  ones  it  had  been  my  privilege  to  see 
upon  his  face. 

3°3 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

"What  are  you  doing  here?"  he  asked, 
savage. 

"Why,  I  only  came  to  speak  to  Mary— to  tell 
her  about  Mr.  Saxton,"  I  stammered,  shyly, 
knowing  that  Saxton 's  name  would  wake  him 
up. 

' '  What  about  Saxton  ? "  he  asked,  putting  his 
wicked  eye  on  me. 

"Why,  I  want  to  tell  Mary— I  don't  like  to 
say— 

' '  What ! "  he  said,  dropping  the  sound  of  his 
voice  still  further  and  sending  the  meaning  of 
it  high.  "What!  You  come  into  my  room  and 
won 't  answer  my  questions ! ' '  He  took  a  quick 
cat-like  step  toward  me.  I  saw  I  had  a  lively 
man  to  deal  with,  and,  weak  as  I  was,  it  stood 
me  in  hand  to  get  ready.  "There  was  a  let 
ter,"  I  mumbled,  reaching  in  my  pocket  for 
my  gun.  With  my  hand  on  that,  I  changed  my 
mind.  ' '  I  guess  I  ought  n  't  to  let  you  have  it, 
Mr.  Belknap,"  I  said. 

He  got  gray  around  the  mouth.    "Give  me 

3°4 


Red  Plays  Trumps 

that  letter  !  '  '  says  he,  in  his  strained  whisper 
ing.  '  '  Give  it  to  me,  or,  so  help  me  God,  I  '11 
kill  you  where  you  stand." 

I  jumped  back,  terrified.  "You  would  n't 
hurt  me?"  I  gasped.  "I  should  n't  give  you 
the  letter,  sir;  it  was  intended  for  Mary- 
please  don't  hurt  rne!  I  've  been  sick!" 

He  drew  a  knife.  "If  you  do  not  instantly 
hand  me  that  letter,"  he  says,  and  he  meant 
every  word  of  it,  "I  shall  put  this  in  your 
heart." 

That  was  the  justification  I  needed.  It  's 
queer,  but  I  never  saw  a  man  who  did  n  't  have 
to  have  an  excuse.  Belknap  had  his,  I  reckon. 

We  stood  there,  me  quivering  with  fear,  and 
his  bad  light  eyes  murderous  on  me,  while 
slowly,  slowly,  I  drew  out  .  .  .  my  gun. 

"Now,"  whispers  I,  "you  petrified  hunk  of 
hypocrisy,  I  Ve  got  you!  Hand  me  that  knife  !" 

He  could  n't  understand.  He  just  stared. 
"Hand  me  that  knife!"  says  I,  letting  what  I 
felt  become  apparent.  He  passed  over  the 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

knife.  With  all  his  faults,  he  was  too  smart  a 
man  not  to  know  the  fix  he  was  in.  Yet  I 
thought  I  'd  clinch  it. 

"Mr.  Belknap, "  says  I,  "your  goose  is 
cooked.  The  government  army  is  right  out 
side,  as  your  people  could  have  seen,  if  they  'd 
had  the  wit  of  a  mud-turtle.  I  Ve  come  into 
your  lines  prepared  to  do  anything  necessary, 
as  you  can  readily  imagine.  We  're  going  to 
have  a  little  play-acting  now,  and  you  're  to 
guess  your  part.  If  you  guess  wrong—  Well, 
heaven  has  missed  you  for  some  time,  and  she 
sha'n't  be  defrauded  any  longer." 

His  eyes  flickered  with  fury.  He  could  n't 
have  said  a  word  to  save  him. 

"Understand,"  I  whispers,  "a  crooked 
move  and— adios!" 

He  understood.  I  kicked  a  table  over  and 
scuffled  with  my  feet  as  if  there  was  a  row, 
then  lay  down  on  the  floor,  where  I  could  watch 
my  man,  and  yelled  quietly  for  help.  Orinez  's 
head  showed  at  the  window.  I  signaled  him, 
306 


Red  Plays  Trumps 

and  he  lay  behind  the  shutter  with  his  artillery 
trained  on  Belknap,  the  virtuous. 

"Don't  cause  me  the  great  grief,  Seiior, "  he 
whispers.  Belknap  turned  and,  seeing  him,  the 
life  went  out  of  his  face. 

I  had  n't  yelled  loud  enough  to  alarm  the 
house.  Only  Mary's  quick  feet  responded  to 
the  call. 

She,  too,  was  a  trifle  surprised  to  find  me 
lying  on  the  floor  in  Belknap 's  room. 

' '  Save  me,  Mary ! "  I  cried.    l i  Save  me ! ' ' 

What  's  a  little  foolish  pride  when  your 
friend's  good  is  at  stake?  Yet  it  hurt  to  do 
that. 

"Why,  Will!  Mr.  Belknap!"  she  cried,  as 
tonished.  "Whatever  is  the  matter?  What 
does  this  mean?" 

"I  came  to  see  you,  Mary,"  I  said,  almost 
crying,  "and  Mr.  Belknap  threatened  to  kill 
me. ' ' 

"To  kill  you,  Will?"  she  said,  in  a  voice 
that  rang  like  a  man's.  "To  kill  you?" 

3°7 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

"Yes,"  I  said  piteously.  "And  I  'm  not  fit 
to  fight  him— I  've  been  hurt— see  my  head, 
where  I  Ve  been  shot. ' '  I  tore  open  my  shirt 
sleeve.  '  *  See  the  cuts !  and  the  bullet  holes ! ' ' 

"Oh,  poor  boy!  poor,  poor  boy!"  she  said 
in  such  loving  pity  that  I  felt  a  skunk  and  had 
a  mind  to  chuck  the  game.  But  it  was  out  of 
my  hands  now.  Mary  sprang  up  and  faced 
Belknap,  so  strong,  graceful,  and  daring  in 
her  rage  that  I  forgot  my  job  in  admiring  her. 

"Explain!"  she  said. 

Belknap  opened  his  mouth.  Outside 
sounded  a  little  click— like  a  creak  in  the  shut 
ter-hinge.  No  words  came. 

The  blood  flamed  in  her  face.  "Have  you 
nothing  to  say  to  me,  sir?  I  shall  ask  you 
once  more  what  this  poor  wounded  boy  has 
done  to  you,  that  you  propose  to  kill  him  1 ' ' 

You  never  saw  an  uglier  mug  than  Belknap 's 
in  all  your  days,  as  it  appeared  then.  Ordi 
narily,  although  I  hate  to  say  it,  he  was  a  fine- 
looking  man,  but  now  his  face  was  so  twisted 


Red  Plays  Trumps 

he  looked  like  the  devil  in  person.  And  still 
he  said  nothing.  He  had  plenty  good  reason 
not  to. 

At  this,  Mary  went  at  him.  l '  I  thought  you  a 
good  man— a  wise  man,"  she  said,  with  a  bit 
ter  quiet  that  burnt,  in  every  word.  "You  are 
a  cowardly  scoundrel.  Attack  the  boy  if  you 
dare.  I  think  I  am  a  match  for  such  as  you. ' ' 

And  so  help  me  John  Kodgers,  if  she  did  n't 
catch  up  the  heavy  ruler  from  his  desk  and 
stand  ready  for  him ! 

If  I  had  the  least  remaining  pity  for  Bel- 
knap,  the  look  he  threw  at  her  finished  it.  He 
would  have  struck  her  if  he  could.  I  know 
it.  The  man  was  nothing  but  a  rotten  mess  of 
selfishness. 

"Bah!"  says  she,  throwing  down  the  ruler 
with  disgust.  "I  am  making  much  out  of  little. 
You  are  not  worth  notice. ' ' 

She  turned  to  me,  all  womanly  gentleness 
and  pity. 

"Never  mind,  Will  dear,"  she  said.    "You 

3°9 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

are  safe,  he  dare  not  touch  you.  What  was  it 
you  risked  your  life  to  tell  me ! " 

''Mary,"  I  said,  speaking  very  slowly,  to 
make  it  sound  its  worst.  "Arthur— is— shot." 

She  acted  as  if  she  was,  too.  I  caught  her 
just  in  time.  She  hung  so  for  a  moment,  not 
fainting,  but  as  lifeless. 

"Now,"  she  said,  scarcely  above  a  breath— 
"now,  when  I  have  just  begun  to  see,  it  comes ! 
And  I  have  myself  to  thank  for  it. ' ' 

She  was  so  white  it  frightened  me;  besides, 
things  were  everlastingly  sliding  along  with 
Bill. 

"Oh,  he  's  not  dead!"  I  explained,  quickly. 
' '  He  may  n  't  even  be  badly  hurt,  but  I  felt  sure 
you  wanted  to  know." 

Then  the  tears  came.  ' '  Want  to  know  ? ' '  she 
sobbed.  ' '  Of  course  I  want  to  know.  Oh,  what 
a  fool  of  a  woman  I  Ve  been!  And  to  think 
of  your  coming  to  tell  me  at  the  risk  of  your 
life !  I  have  n 't  deserved  it !  Where  is  Ar 
thur?  Can  we  go  there?  Can  we  go,  Will? 
310 


Red  Plays  Trumps 

You  don 't  believe  he  '11  die !  He  must  n  't !  He 
can't!" 

Last  I  saw  of  Saxton  he  was  chuckling  mer 
rily  over  the  doctor's  mistake  concerning  the 
value  of  aces  up.  Unless  he  'd  changed  his 
mind  in  the  meanwhile,  he  had  n't  the  remotest 
intention  of  dying. 

"It  's  dodging  through  the  lines,  Mary,  to 
get  to  him— risky." 

She  waved  my  objection  off  with  an  impa 
tient  hand,  dried  her  eyes,  and  made  ready. 

"Come  with  me  until  I  get  some  things  to 
gether,"  she  said,  practical,  in  spite  of  her  fire. 
I  do  sure  like  that  combination. 

"T  '11  stay  here,"  says  I.  "You  won't 
hurt  me  now,  will  you,  Mr.  Belknap?"  This 
T  remarked  in  a  very  youthful,  pleading 
tone. 

He  said,  "No,"  after  a  struggle.  Tt  did  n't 
sound  like  anything  you  ever  heard  from  a 
human  throat. 

"I  '11  just  stay  here,"  I  said.     I  wanted  a 

311 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

word  with  the  man.    Mary  looked  doubtful  for 
a  moment,  but  at  length  left. 

"Now,  Belknap,"  says  I,  when  she  was 
safely  in  her  room,  and  me  almighty  glad  to 
be  my  own  self  again,  "because  you  Ve  been 
a  friend  of  Mary's — that  is,  because  she 
thought  you  were— you  go  free,  if  you  wish. 
When  we  leave  we  '11  send  you  back  a  man. 
Take  my  advice  and  go  with  him— don't  get 
it  into  your  fool  head  I  'm  working  a  plant 
on  you  this  time.  You  can  guess  what  your 
carcass  will  be  worth  when  we  take  the  city. 
Our  men  are  due  here  in  minutes. ' ' 

He  looked  at  me  and  ground  his  teeth— pal 
sied  with  rage,  shaking  all  over. 

"Better  do  it,"  I  said. 

And  then  came  testimony :  far-off  firing,  and 
yells. 

"Our  boys  are  closing  in,"  I  told  him. 
"That  's  them,  now." 

The  firing  grew  heavier  and  then  quit.  The 
yells  increased. 

312 


Red  Plays  Trumps 

Another  look  flashed  on  his  face— fear.  For 
a  while  I  think  the  bigger  man  in  him  deter 
mined  to  stick  it  out,  but  fear  drew  the  pot. 

The  change  grew. 

' i  Of  course, ' '  he  said, l '  if  I  am  to  understand 
that  you  mean  well  by  me— 

I  cut  him  off. 

"I  don't  mean  well  by  you.  I  despise  you 
altogether.  You  get  away  safely  because  Mary 
thought  once  you  were  a  friend.  It  's  a  fool 
notion  that  you  can  take  advantage  of,  or  not, 
as  pleases  you.  I  won't  attempt  to  disguise 
the  fact  that  you  are  wanted  bad  by  some  of 
our  side.  Orifiez,  there,  would  like  to  have 
your  hide  to  remember  you  by." 

"Si,  Senor!"  says  Orifiez  from  the  window. 
"It  is  only  that  my  word  is  given  you  are  not 
dead  now." 

There  came  another  burst  of  firing,  nearer. 
Another  street  taken. 

"I  agree,"  said  Belknap,  and  now  he  was 
anxious,  fawning.  "I  can  take  a  few  belong- 

3T3 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

ings?  Trifles  that  I  have  picked  up  and  wish 
to  keep?" 

"Leave  your  trifles  and  let  them  keep  me," 
jeered  Orinez. 

"You  can  take  what  you  can  carry,"  I  an 
swered,  short. 

' '  Thank  you— thank  you, ' '  he  said  hurriedly. 
"Would  you  mind  if  I  asked  you  to  leave  me 
alone  in  the  room?  A  stranger  distracts  one 
when  it  comes  to  what  to  leave  and  what  to 
keep. ' ' 

"We  won't  steal  your  darned  money,  even 
if  we  see  it, "  I  said.  ' '  You  '11  have  time  after 
we  leave  to  gather  your  wealth. ' ' 

He  bit  his  nails.  "The  time  seems  short," 
he  said.  The  firing  broke  out  nearer,  and  now 
you  could  hear  our  war-whoop.  ' '  Viva  Perez ! 
Down  with  the  traitors ! ' '  Each  side  called  the 
other  traitors.  "Perez"  was  the  key  to  the 
party. 

"Short  or  not,  it  's  what  you  get,"  I  an 
swered  him.  Mary  left  her  room  and  the  talk 
stopped. 


Red  Plays  Trumps 

' '  I  am  ready, ' '  she  said. 

I  took  her  bundle  and  we  started.  At  the 
head  of  the  stairs  she  paused.  "Will,"  she 
said,  "I  hate  that  man;  but  as  I  hope  to  go 
to  the  happiness  of  my  life,  I  will  not  leave 
him  so." 

' '  Good  for  you ! ' '  says  I. 

She  went  in  again  and  held  out  her  hand. 

"Mr.  Belknap,"  she  said,  "I  wish  no  ill-will 
between  us.  Forgive  me  as  fully  as  I  forgive 
you. ' ' 

He  was  on  pins  and  needles  to  get  his 
money;  to  be  rid  of  us. 

' '  Certainly,  my  dear  young  lady ! ' '  says  he 
with  haste  and  effusion.  "Certainly!  Of 
course ! "  It  meant  nothing  to  him  at  all.  And 
it  meant  a  ton  to  Mary.  She  stared  at  him 
until  I  pulled  her  away.  ' '  Is  that  a  sane  man  ? ' ' 
she  asked  me. 

"I  Ve  no  time  for  conundrums,"  I  answered 
her.  "We  must  be  getting  out  of  this." 

If  I  succeeded,  I  was  to  signal  Perez.  When 
we  reached  the  garden,  I  could  walk  freely, 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

being  in  the  company  of  the  well-known  Seno- 
rita  Maria.  I  undid  my  neckerchief,  shook  it 
carelessly,  and  Perez  was  off,  to  bring  Arthur 
by  any  kind  of  method  to  the  arranged  meet 
ing-place. 

Orinez  struck  off  ahead  to  scout  for  pos 
sible  danger. 

There  was  none.  We  had  n't  gone  five 
squares  before  we  ran  into  panic-stricken 
rebels,  and  the  firing-line  was  approaching  on 
the  jump. 

Not  wanting  Mary  to  see  the  wounded  men, 
and  not  caring  to  explain  just  then  why  I 
could  n't  have  waited  an  hour  or  two  for  my 
message,  I  took  the  back  way. 

We  landed  at  the  little  ruined  stone  house 
before  Saxton  and  Perez ;  they  had  much  far 
ther  to  travel. 

' '  We  must  wait  here, ' '  I  told  Mary. 

* '  Must  we  ? "  she  asked  pitifully.  ' '  Can 't  we 
go  on?" 

' '  Now,  my  dear  girl,  see  here, ' '  says  I,  in  a 
316 


Red  Plays  Trumps 

fatherly  manner,  "after  I  Ve  tried  to  do  the 
best-" 

"Yes,  dear,  yes— I  'm  ungrateful,  I  know." 
She  cried  a  little.  ' '  But  I  Ve  been  such  a  fool ! 
You  're  sure  lie  is  n't  dangerously  hurt!" 

' '  Why,  it  may  be, ' '  says  I,  with  a  wave  of  my 
hand,  "that  he  's  up  and  around!  I  don't 
know  much  about  these  things,  you  know.  I  'm 
scart  easy." 

Then  she  petted  me  and  said  I  had  a  wise 
reason,  she  was  sure,  and  if  it  was  danger 
ous  to  go  on,  she  would  n't,  and  she  'd  be  pa 
tient,  and  she  was  all  worn  out  and  she  looked 
a  fright,  and  icliat  a  fool  she  had  been!  And 
she  cried  some  more. 

I  heard  a  step.  I  'd  strained  my  ears  for  it 
for  the  last  twenty  minutes.  "Now,"  I  says 
to  her,  "I  '11  skip  out  to  see  what  's  doing." 

I  slid  behind  a  tree  in  time  to  prevent  Sax 
from  seeing  me.  Perez  was  on  the  hill  waving 
his  hands  for  joy.  I  felt  pretty  dum  joyous 
myself,  hiding  in  the  brush  with  the  lovely 

31? 


Plain  Mary  Smith 

feeling  of  putting  through  a  thoroughly  suc 
cessful  put-up  job  added  to  the  other. 

Dead  silence  after  Saxton  stepped  within  the 
little  house.  Then  come  one  cry — "Arthur!" 

The  whole  business,  from  the  cradle  to  the 
grave,  was  done  up  in  one  small  word. 

Perez  come  down  the  hill;  I  left  my  brush- 
pile.  Arthur  and  Mary  were  sitting  on  the 
stone  step,  hand  in  hand.  I  '11  bet  they  never 
said  a  word  after  that  first  cry,  and  they  held 
hands  like  they  was  afraid  to  let  go,  even  for 
a  minute.  I  thought  we  'd  have  lots  of  ex 
plaining  to  do,  but  shucks !  They  did  n't  want 
any  explanations.  There  they  were,  sitting 
on  the  door-step,  hand  in  hand.  Good  enough 
old  explanation  for  anybody. 

They  did  n't  even  see  us. 

I  raised  my  voice,  calling  to  Perez,  "Your 
Excellency,  I  have  the  honor  to  report  Panama 
has  fallen!" 

And  there  they  sat,  hand  in  hand.  They 
did  n  't  even  hear  us,  neither. 


A     000  073  053     1 


